


World's Most Expensive

by edawnings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Making Out, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Tension, rich college kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8982625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edawnings/pseuds/edawnings
Summary: “You’re fucking with a man whose father is part of the fucking Yakuza! Look around and open your eyes, sweetheart: everyone in this room except for you is affiliated with the Yakuza. Well, I suppose you’re also with the Yakuza now, since you decided to show up tonight. Welcome to our world, baby!”
 DISCONTINUED





	1. Misanthropy

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to the Yakuza AU no one asked for.

Tsukishima Kei was not fond of people. He never had been. He’d always been distant and unsociable, and most people didn’t favour that in a person. Which was fine by him. The fewer people he was forced to interact with, the better.

Tsukishima especially disliked loud people. Whether they were vocally loud, or loud with their personalities, it didn’t matter. They annoyed Tsukishima to no end. It was the same with hot-headed people. He didn’t understand where their unending enthusiasm came from, but he was certainly glad he wasn’t as obnoxious as them. He wasn’t the type of person to get unnecessarily excited about anything, or raise his voice unless he had an intentionally emphasizing purpose. He just wasn’t.

Tsukishima also wasn’t the type of person to socialize with everyone, or anyone, at least not by choice. Tsukishima stuck to himself. He observed people—not because he was interested, or even because he cared, but sometimes he had nothing better to do.

At the moment, he was sitting in his University’s Café, attempting to do homework. He’d just finished an unfavourable day of classes, not unlike any other day, and decided that not was probably the best time to eat and do the homework he’d been given that day. So far he’d gotten quite a bit of it finished, but now there was a newfound distraction in the room.

There was a particularly noticeable group of people at the café, drawing everyone’s attention toward them. They were loud, each one talking over everyone in the room, as if there was no choice for them other than to be heard. The individual people all looked so different from one another, but there was a certain type of air surrounding them that made them all similar and united them.

One of the men, obviously the ringleader, practically forced the attention onto him. Part of it was because he was one of the most attractive men Tsukishima had ever seen. He was almost as tall as Tsukishima, which was impressive. Smooth olive skin covered his body, stretched tight over sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline. He had short, slanted eyebrows, and embarrassingly atrocious black hair. His bangs covered one eye, but other than that, it stuck out in every possible direction, and then some. Tsukishima didn’t understand how anyone could possibly manage to style their hair like that, but it was ridiculous. The man wore a dark red button up, unbuttoned at the top to expose his prominent collarbones, paired with black slacks that looked approximately three sizes too tight. He wore multiple shiny rings and a watch, all coloured gold. His devilishly wide smile was magnetic, drawing everyone in, as if they wanted to be his prey. When he talked, he moved his hands a lot and winked at passing strangers. Everyone treated him like he owned the place. He looked like he thought he ruled the world.

One of the men with him had just as amusing hair, but it at least looked organized. It had maybe even been thought out. The hair was white with black streaks and roots, styled into two horn-like peaks. He was smiling, but it was way more excitable and much less sleazy than the other man’s. He was also bouncier and less grounded than the rest of the group. He wore some type of black, tight fit, cutoff shirt, accentuating the bulging muscles in his arms and his sides. Over the shirt, he wore a clear rainjacket. The entire look was topped off with a thick chain around his neck and one of his wrists, adding to the ‘guard dog’ look he had going on. He wore a simple silver ring around his finger. His eyes were wide and gold, framed by white eyelashes, thick grey brows moving with his words. He would have been incredibly intimidating, if it hadn’t been for his loud and bubbly demeanor. Not to mention that undeniably goofy smile that hadn’t faltered once in the time that Tsukishima had been watching him.

The man standing next to him had a demeanor exactly the opposite. He was completely still, dark blue-green eyes boredly peering around the room, similar to Tsukishima. He wore simple black slacks, black dress shoes, and a plain black turtleneck, no coloured accents in sight. He wore no jewelry, besides a thin silver band around one of his fingers. He stood close to the man with the white hair, listening to his words, but never talking himself. His emotionless face was undoubtedly beautiful, cheekbones casting shadows on his face, dark eyebrows the ideal, arched shape, full lips in a downturned shape. His skin was white, far lighter than even Tsukihima’s contrasting with the thick eyelashes framing his eyes, and the curly black hair framing his almost gaunt face. The darkness enveloping this man, against his expressionless face and pale skin, made him look like a corpse. A frighteningly pretty corpse.

Lastly, a well-dressed, pompous brunet. He looked like a magazine model, or a mannequin, and he acted like he knew it. He had perfectly styled, wavy brown hair, just messy enough to look purposeful. His smile was wide and fake, albeit still perfect, with blindingly white teeth. His eyes were a milk chocolate brown, narrowed with arrogance. Tsukishima couldn’t find any flaws on his face, besides his irritatingly arrogant expression. His body was tall and lanky, but still proportional, unlike Tsukishima’s. He wasn’t lanky in the way that made him look starved—his muscles balanced his physique out. He wore a stark white button up, a brown vest with matching, well-fitting slacks, and a green tie. The only accessory he had on him was a gold watch, but he didn’t need anything else. His looks were flashy enough.

They certainly were an unmissable.

They certainly were a group of people Tsukishima wouldn’t mind avoiding.

Tsukishima shook attention away from the flamboyant group of men, back to his homework. He’d allowed himself to get distracted too easily. It was hard not to give the group his full attention, though. For one, they were distractingly loud. For two, they were probably the most interesting people Tsukishima had witnessed since he’d started University earlier that semester. He considered moving into the library so he could finish his homework, but then again, he could manage to finish it up while keeping an eye on the group’s annoyingly handsome ringleader. Not as if he was going to do just that.

“Did you see something you like?” a voice purred from across the table, tone low and sweet, as if someone was dragging their fingertips through warm honey. The voice forced Tsukishima to look up. It was the previously mentioned, sleazy ringleader with the bedhead. He was sitting across from Tsukishima, grinning at the blond, dark gold eyes half lidded.

“No,” Tsukishima responded—lied—and turned his eyes back to his homework.

The man’s grin widened, and he was leaning forward on his elbows to get closer to Tsukishima. “You were looking at my group and me for quite some time, you know that?” His voice was low, syllables running hit over Tsukishima’s skin, giving him goosebumps. His voice had some weird type of power over the blond, and he hated it. This man could tell Tsukishima to do anything, and he wouldn’t hesitate to take it into consideration.

“I hadn’t realized,” Tsukishima replied boredly.

The other man gave a charming smile. “My name is Kuroo Tetsurou.” He stuck his thumb and his forefinger in his mouth to whistle. Sure enough, the other three men were at his side in no time, looming over Tsukishima. He pointed at the white haired, muscular man. “This one’s Bokuto.” To the black haired one. “Akaashi.” Then the brunet. “The pretty one’s Oikawa.” He laced his ringed fingers on the table in front of him. “What’s your name?”

Tsukishima glanced uninterestedly at each of their faces. All he wanted to do was finish his homework in peace. “Tsukishima.”

“Tsukishima,” Kuroo hummed slowly, feeling the blond’s name in his mouth, as if he were trying to taste each individual letter on the tip of his tongue. “Nice name. I like it,” he winked.

Tsukishima raised his eyebrows at Kuroo’s obvious flirting. He was really regretting his choice not to work in the library. Handsome or not, Kuroo was obnoxious. And so were his goon-like friends. He wished these people would quit speaking to him. He had better things to do.

A breathy laugh came from the one called Oikawa, the one who looked like a model. “Do we not intimidate you, Tsukishima?” he all but sang, head tilting in the slightest. He looked like he couldn’t believe the sight in front of him.

“Why would you intimidate me?” Tsukishima was not someone who was easily intimidated. It’d take a whole lot more than a few sly smiles and looming figures to make Tsukishima bat an eye.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but Kuroo cut him off before he could make a noise.

“Oikawa, don’t be shitty. Stop trying to cause trouble.” He looked at Tsukishima and winked again, earning a grimace. Even Tsukishima could see how charismatic this man was. “So, is it just Tsukishima, or?”

“Tsukishima Kei.”

Bokuto gasped in awe. “That’s such a pretty name.” He was practically bouncing in place. Never mind looking like a guard dog, he was like an overexcited puppy.

“He’s right,” Kuroo cooed. He smiled, looking like he wanted to eat Tsukishima alive. “That _is_ a really pretty name.” Maybe Tsukishima wouldn’t mind being eaten alive by this man.

Tsukishima blinked at the group of men. “I’m glad you think so.”

Kuroo’s eyes were drilling into Tsukishima, studying his face as he spoke. “You know, Tsukishima, I find you unbelievably intriguing. Not to mention cute.” There was a whiny huff from Oikawa. Kuroo leaned forward. “Do you like partying?”

“Kuroo,” Oikawa whined. “You can’t possibly be inviting him—”

“Oikawa.” It was a warning. Kuroo’s voice was lower and rougher than it had been when he was speaking it Tsukishima, and something in the blond made him want to hear that voice again.

“It depends on the party,” Tsukishima said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, from where they had slipped down.

“What if I told you,” Kuroo smiled, “that I knew a group of young, rich, men who threw the craziest fucking parties this University has to offer?”

Tsukishima blinked. “I’d ask you what your point is.”

“Party with us, Tsukishima.” His voice was low, almost like a threat, almost like he was trying to seduce the other man. Either way, it made pleasant chills run up Tsukishima’s spine.

“Why should I?” Kuroo didn’t seem like the person who was often rejected. Tsukishima figured he was the type of person who got whatever and whoever he wanted, when he wanted it. Even if he was going to agree to one of their self-acclaimed ‘crazy’ parties, it was still fun to really challenge Kuroo into convincing him.

No, Tsukishima was not a pleasant person at all.

Something glinted in Kuroo’s tawny eyes. “Our parties are attended by some of the most elite people Tokyo has to offer. Interesting people. We have a lot of fun, get totally shit-faced, and I think you’d be a good addition to our collection of the elite.”

“The elite?” Tsukishima asked. He seriously doubted it. These people were elite, sure, in comparison to the rest of the college’s campus. “I’ll consider it.” In no way, did he think that he himself was elite. Somehow Kuroo did, though.

“Please do. The next one will be this Friday, in four days.” He set a white business card on the table and slid it to the blond. “All the needed information is on this card. It’s at my place.” He winked at Tsukishima for the third time since they’d started talking. He stood, pushing the chair back with the backs of his knees. “I really hope to see you there,” he smiled. Tsukishima was sure it was supposed to look friendly, but with Kuroo’s features, it just looked predatory.

“I’ll consider it,” Tsukishima scowled. Kuroo grinned at him before turning and walking away, the other three following him.

As uninterested as Tsukishima seemed, he was actually considering going to this party. He wondered what Kuroo meant by ‘elite,’ and why he thought Tsukishima qualified as such a thing. He also wouldn’t mind looking at Kuroo again. Not that that was a good enough reason, but it certainly wasn’t lessening his chances of going.

Well, fuck. He supposed he’d have to wear something halfway decent if he was going to show up. That was tiring.

#

You know how it feels when it’s a cold day, and the sun finally breaks through the clouds and provides some warmth? That pleasant relief? That’s exactly what Kuroo felt when he first laid eyes on Tsukishima Kei. It was a weird feeling for him, really. He was just hanging out in the café, talking to Oikawa, and his eyes landed on the pale blond. He didn’t know what drew his eyes in that direction in the first place, but it was definitely Tsukishima who kept his eyes stuck in that direction. At the time, Tsukishima had been looking at Akaashi, eyes observing him and eventually moving on to Oikawa.

Kuroo’s first impression of Tsukishima was that he was fucking _gorgeous_. They were inside, but it was like a ray of sunlight had landed on the man, illuminating him just for Kuroo’s eyes. He was pale, as was his blond hair, and his blond eyelashes caught the sunlight as he looked down to resume studying. He was thin, graceful looking, even, and he screamed intelligence. Kuroo had to meet him.

When Kuroo finally had the pleasure of speaking with Tsukishima, his disinterest for everything, and bitter demeanor only further intrigued Kuroo. He wasn’t impolite, but his words and averted gaze made it clear to Kuroo that he didn’t care what anyone had to say to him. And it was beautiful. Those cynical expressions on that milky pale face, downturned pink lips, gold eyes coloured so warmly but narrowed so coldly. It was all so beautiful to Kuroo, in the same was that threateningly sharp icicles are beautiful. He wanted to melt him under his hands.

When Kuroo invited him to his party, it was more than just an invitation to get smashed with he and his best friends. It was an invitation to _become_ one of them, to mix himself in with the rich and the unique. He wanted to introduce Tsukishima to this lifestyle for the sake of him living this lifestyle with the rest of them. Kuroo would have no qualms with adding Tsukishima to his group, no matter how much Oikawa bitched about it. Tsukishima was already exquisite, Kuroo could just imagine if he became one of them.

Kuroo was very particular who he let into his group. Obviously he was, there were only three people besides himself. Kuroo had a thing for interesting people. No one liked boring people, but Kuroo despised them. He surrounded himself with people so unique they were practically a rarity. Even the people at his parties couldn’t be generic. There had to be something that scared people, or drew people in, or both. There had to be something about them that was unique enough to grab Kuroo’s attention. And this kid sure seemed unique. Kuroo wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone scowl that much in their entire life time put together. It was cute, and it was intimidating to the general eye, so naturally, Kuroo was all over it.

Kuroo needed to see Tsukishima again. He needed to show him the type of live he was living, and bring him into it.

He needed Tsukishima to show up at his party.

#

Tsukishima was standing outside of Kuroo’s door. Of his fucking penthouse.

Tsukishima had to ask the front desk’s clerk where Kuroo’s place was, and when pointed to the very top floor, a half glass penthouse, he almost turned around and went back to his dorm, purely from exasperation.

Kuroo, from the looks of it, was just as rich as he and his friends acted: fucking loaded.

Tsukishima took the elevator up to the top floor, and was immediately greeted by a red door, guarded by one man with ridiculous hair. This time, it wasn’t Bokuto or Kuroo. It was a shorter man with mean, hooded eyes. His hair was blond, with two, black streaks racing down either side of his head. His face was in a deep scowl, eyebrows nonexistent, eyeliner smudged on his lower lids. Kuroo wasn’t lying when he said there would be interesting people at this party.

“You invited?” the man asked, revealing the gold grill on his lower teeth, spiked as if he had animal-like canines. Music was pounding loudly behind the door, shaking the walls.

Tsukishima sighed. “Unfortunately.” He handed the man Kuroo’s business card and watched his eyes scan over the typography. He looked back at Tsukishima and opened the door, staring at the taller man with mean eyes.

As soon as the door opened, Tsukishima was blown back from the volume of the music, and the heat of bodies. Lights were dim, some flashing, and people were dancing as if their lives depended on it. There was a full bar, where several people were doing shots, either out of glasses, or off of someone’s body.

Tsukishima could easily see that Kuroo had money, and a lot of it. The ceiling was high, a crystal chandelier hanging from a chain, vibrating with the music. There were leather and suede couches placed around the edges of the room, where people sat, grinding and making out. The bar had sleek black countertops, silver stools spaced in front of it. The floor was hardwood, reflecting the lights and people’s feet. The two walls opposite of the front door were glass, showing the city of Tokyo, and the stars. By the looks of it, there were several other rooms down a hallway, and a few doors in the main room leading out. Tsukishima wasn’t sure where someone like Kuroo would get this much money, but it was impressive. Kuroo was still so young, and yet living better than most middle aged businessmen. All while managing to go to college.

“Tsukki!” a voice yelled, the nickname grating on Tsukishima’s nerves. He frowned, eyes locking onto the man walking towards him. “Christ, you’re tall.”

If he thought Kuroo looked flashy before, he clearly had no idea what he was talking about. Kuroo was wearing a white fur coat over a bright red button up, paired with tight pants, similar to the ones he was wearing when Tsukishima had seen him before. His shoes were also white, black laces threaded through the shoes in an intricate pattern. He had the same shitty, ridiculous hair, though.

“Well, what do you think?” Kuroo asked, spreading his arms in a gesture to the rest of the room. He was wearing more rings than he had been before, glinting in the dim light. Even as loud as he was being, Kuroo’s voice was still appealing, rich and filled with confidence.

Tsukishima looked around at the many bodies surrounding him. “It’s impressive,” he admitted.

Kuroo grinned as if those words meant the entire world to him. “Care for a drink?” he asked, already walking towards the bar. Tsukishima had no choice but to follow. He also wouldn’t mind a drink, not with this many loud people in one room.

The bartender immediately stopped what he was doing to greet the host. “Hey, Kuroo, what’s up?” He wore a regular bartending outfit, complete with the black bowtie. He had silvery-brown hair, bangs swishing over his eyes. His eyes were brown, framed with winged eyeliner. His eyebrows had obviously been filled in, cheeks brushed with a light pink blush. His lips were painted red, eyelashes thickly coated in mascara. He was wearing a lot of makeup, but it fit his facial structure so well, it didn’t register in Tsukishima’s mind as unordinary.

“This is the newbie I was telling everyone about,” Kuroo explained. “Get him, uh,” he looked Tsukishima up and down, eyes glinting. “Let’s do something strong and fruity, why don’t we?” The blond wasn't sure how Kuroo assumed his drink preference by just looking at him, but he wasn’t wrong about it.

“Of course,” the man responded, not hesitating to start mixing drinks. He looked up at Tsukishima as he did. “Kyoutani didn’t give you any trouble, did he?” he asked, pouring two types of rum into the drink mixer at the same time.

“Kyout—“

“Kyoutani is our bouncer,” Kuroo said. “He’s Yahaba’s boytoy.” Tsukishima could only assume that the bartender was this Yahaba he spoke of.

“He was fine,” Tsukishima assured.

“Good,” Yahaba sighed, setting a pink drink in front of Tsukishima, dropping a green straw in. Tsukishima grabbed the drink and took a sip. It certainly was strong and fruity. “He can be kind of abrasive sometimes, and I’d rather not have to deal with that later.” Kuroo chuckled. “Unless we’re in the bedroom, of course,” Yahaba laughed, smiling at his own joke. Tsukishima just scowled.

Kuroo put a hand on the center of Tsukishima’s back, guiding him away from the bar. “Thanks, Shigeru,” he called, walking away. “Don’t let him fool you, Yahaba is usually incredibly hostile. It’s why he and Kyoutani get along so well.”

“You weren’t lying about the people being different,” Tsukishima observed. Next to where Kuroo and Tsukishimia stood, a man with spiky red hair was kneeling on the floor, snorting white powder off of someone’s back, using a fifty-dollar bill. He sat up to inhale deeply, and grinned when he opened his eyes.

“That _is_ why I invited you,” Kuroo said, paying no mind to the red haired on the floor.

“You think I’m different?” Tsukishima asked, eyes watching Kuroo’s lips. Tsukishima didn’t consider himself different. He disliked people a lot more than most did, he probably scowled a lot more than most did, and he was definitely taller than most, but other than that, he was just one of the crowd.

Kuroo’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “Do you really not see it?” he asked incredulously.

Tsukishima adjusted his glasses. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He wished Kuroo would stop being vague and just tell him why he was invited.

“You’re one of them, Tsukki.” He wasn’t sure how this new nickname had come to light, but he wasn’t pleased about it. “I knew from the moment I saw you that you’d be as unique as most of the people here.”

Tsukishima wasn’t sure how to respond, so he didn’t. Kuroo was actually convinced that Tsukishima was as interesting and different as the people at this party. That was a first.

“You kind of look like a fucking angel, to be honest.” Kuroo wasn’t grinning, or chucking, like Tsukishima had expected him to be. He was being completely serious.

Tsukishima snickered, raising his eyebrows in amusement. “If you’re trying to get in my pants, just say so,” he teased.

Kuroo’s grin was back. “That is so not what I was trying to do,” he said with a faux glare and a laugh. “Not that I’d mind doing that at all.”

Tsukishima’s eyes widened in surprise. He was not used to people blatantly hitting on him, like Kuroo did. It was interesting. He didn’t know what to make of Kuroo. He was stunningly attractive, sure, but he was also obnoxious and slightly annoying. But he was also laid back and incredibly chill, and overall didn’t seem like an awful person. What did Tsukishima know, though? This was only their second interaction.

“I wouldn’t, either,” the blond smirked, waiting for Kuroo’s reaction.

Kuroo nearly choked on air, adjusting his fur coat to cover it up. “Come on, let’s go find Bokuto and Akaashi,” he said, beckoning Tsukishima with a nod of his head. He was walking towards the glass part of the room, parting the crowd as if he were a god. Maybe, to the crowd, he was. People sure looked at him like he was.

Akaashi was sitting on one of the black leather couches, one leg crossed over the other, an oversized wine glass between his fingers. He was dressed relatively same as he was when Tsukishima had seen him before, but instead of black slacks, he wore black fishnets that cut off at the angle, under black, loose fitting, highwater jeans. Bokuto was sitting next to him, his face buried in the darker haired male, kissing the skin where his neck and shoulder meet. He wasn’t wearing a shirtm showing off the muscles shifting in his back and in his shoulders. One of his hands was squeezing Akaashi’s thigh, the other on the couch to stabilize himself. Tsukishima suppressed a grimace at the display of affection.

Akaashi looked up at the men standing in front of him. “Kuroo. Welcome, Tsukishima.”

Tsukishima took a sip of his drink. “Thanks.”

Bokuto’s head whipped away from Akaashi, and towards the other two at the mention of their names. He had his usual, goofy grin on his face, eyes staring up at Tsukishima. “Dude, you’re tall as fuck!” he exclaimed, looking amazed.

“I’m aware.”

“Wanna do shots?” Bokuto bounced onto the balls of his feet, earning a glare from Akaashi. He was even more muscular than he had looked when Tsukishima saw him before. He was all hard, bulging muscles under tan skin.

“Fuck yeah, bro!” Kuroo grinned. “Go get us all a round?” Bokuto bounced off into the crowd, towards the bar.

“So, Tsukishima, how are you enjoying things?” Akaashi asked. His voice was soft and even.

“It’s fine.” Tsukishima supposed it wasn’t awful. No one he didn’t know was trying to talk to him, so he counted it as a success. The only people who had talked to him were people talking to him for business purposes, and Kuroo. And Kuroo wasn’t awful company, which was a pleasant surprise.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Bokuto returned with four shot glasses, handing each of them one. “Man, I fucking love shots,” he sighed adoringly. Tsukishima was already feeling a bit buzzed from the pink drink at hand, and he was sure this shot was going to fuck him up quite a bit more.

Kuroo downed the shot and looked to the blond. “Hey, Tsukki, you should stay for the after party,” he said, a tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “A few of us just get baked and hang out for a while. It’s a real low-key thing.” Well, he certainly knew what appealed to Tsukishima, he’d give him that.

“Okay.”

Kuroo blinked widely. “Wait, really?”

“Yes,” Tsukishima said matter-of-factly. Maybe it was because he was on the road to getting drunk, but none of that sounded too bad to him. Kuroo was only getting more attractive as the night went on.

“Bro, you’re totally going to be one of us,” Bokuto grinned, punching the blond in the arm, earning a deep scowl from Tsukishima, and hopped back on the couch to start kissing Akaashi’s neck again.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Kuroo said quietly, suddenly a lot closer to Tsukishima than he had remembered. He was so close to Tsukishima that the blond could see his individual eyelashes. Tsukishima didn’t understand what was so alluring about this man.

Tsukishima couldn’t pull himself away from staring at Kuroo’s lips. They looked soft, and they made pleasant shapes when he talked. “I wouldn’t either,” Tsukishima repeated. He didn’t even remember what they’d been talking about it. He just felt a warm buzz under his skin and in his veins. Alcohol really did wonders.

“Bo, not now,” Akaashi warned, breaking Tsukishima’s focus away from Kuroo. Akaashi had a fist in Bokuto’s hair, pulling the man away from his neck. He wasn’t even looking at him, his eyes were focused somewhere in front of him.

“But _baby_ ,” the white-haired man whined, a pout forming on his face.

“I said not now.” Akaashi looked up at Kuroo and Tsukishima. “He bit me,” he explained, as if that cleared matters up any more than they already had been.

Bokuto stuck his lower lip out in a pout. “Fine,” he said, crossing his arms. Akaashi finally let go of his hair. “It’s not like you pulling my hair makes it any easier on me, ‘Kaashi.”

Akaashi only gave a small smile at that. He took a sip of his wine, dark eyes watching Bokuto.

“If you hadn’t noticed, Akaashi and Bokuto are dating. And constantly fucking,” Kuroo laughed. He was still close to Tsukishima. The blond hadn’t noticed how perfect and straight his teeth were, until now. They were white, his canines pointed more than the regular person’s. Tsukishima would definitely let Kuroo bite him with those teeth, at any point he wanted.

That’s it, Tsukishima was drunk.

“I figured,” Tsukishima said.”

Kuroo sat on the couch, gesturing for the blond to join him. “You’re only a freshman, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I guessed, since I hadn’t seen you before this semester. You could’ve been a transfer, though.” Bokuto was pressing sweet kisses on Akaashi’s mouth, momentarily distracting Tsukishima. “Bokuto, Oikawa, and I are juniors, and Akaashi is a sophomore. Most of these people are upperclassmen, and I know for a fact that you’re the only freshman we’ve invited in a while.”

Tsukishima finished his drink off, holding his empty cup in his lap. “Why is that?”

Kuroo shrugged. “Freshmen are generic. There’s usually nothing special about them.” A man with bleached hair and a tongue piercing passed the group, winking at each of them individually. Kuroo flipped him off, laughing as he did.

“What’s so special about me, then?” Tsukishima wasn’t used to not understanding things. He was a quick learner, and an avid studier, so concepts didn’t stay new to him for long. But he had never been so interesting to someone before, and that was completely throwing everything off balance. It annoyed him how confused it made him.

“There’s just… something about you. Trust me, I can’t explain it now, but when I figure it out, I’ll let you know. There’s definitely something special about you.” Kuroo absentmindedly moved a piece of hair off of Tsukishima’s forehead, eyes focused on the blond. “For one, you’re so fucking mean and bitter for your age, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima sighed. “Why the nickname?”

“I just think it’s cute,” Kuroo winked. “You can give me a cute nickname too, if you want.” He nudged Tsukishima in the ribs with his elbow.

“You’re obnoxious,” Tsukishima sighed, frowning.

“Yeah, Tsukki?” Kuroo was grinning, scooting closer to the blond to poke his cheek. “Why do you say that?”

Tsukishima’s scowl deepened, glaring at Kuroo. “I dislike nicknames.” Nicknames were unnecessary, especially between two people who had just met.

“Oh, bitter youth,” Kuroo breathed, looking up to the ceiling and shaking his head. “What should I call you, then?”

The blond rolled his eyes. “Anything but that.”

Kuroo’s eyes glinted, grin widening into that predatory grin of his. “Kei.” His voice was low, rumbling in Tsukishima’s ears like velvet and thunder, running hot through his veins. It rolled over Tsukishima’s skin, as soft as silk, and as rich as dark chocolate.

“Just call me Tsukishima,” he snapped, trying to rid his body of the chills Kuroo had given him.

“Whatever you say,” Kuroo chuckled. His gaze drifted into the crowd of people, still dancing and grinding without a care in the world.

The man with the tongue piercing returned, a grin on his face. His undercut was black, the longer, top part of his hair bleached into a blond. He wore tight black pants and He was almost as sleazy as Kuroo, if not more so. “I’m afraid I haven’t introduced myself,” he winked, holding a hand out for the blond to shake. Tsukishima disregarded his hand, eyes boredly looking upwards. “I’m Terushima Yuuji, blowjob extraordinaire.” Kuroo snorted loudly. Tsukishima wrinkled his nose. People at this party were far too open with their sexuality. “God, you’re pretty fucking cute,” Terushima said, ruffling Tsukishima’s hair. The blond stilled, shooting a mean glare up to the man.

“Don’t touch me again,” Tsukishima sneered.

Terushima laughed loudly, throwing his head back. The piece of metal in his tongue shone in the lights. “You’re a real bitch, too, you must be Kuroo’s fucking dream boy!” He shot Kuroo a knowing smile.

Tsukishima sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you finished?”

Terushima was grinning, clearly amused with the blond. It pissed Tsukishima off. People were far too open and friendly with him. He didn’t know anyone here—he hardly even knew Kuroo—and yet everyone was acting like he was their best friend. It was annoying. “I suppose I am,” Terushima winked. “You got a good one, Kuroo.” He leaned in close so he could be eye level with Kuroo. “Don’t let him go.” He walked away, jumping into the mass of dancing bodies, instantly enveloped by them.

“Sorry about him,” Kuroo sighed, giving a sheepish smile. It was a good expression on him, Tsukishima thought. It was different than his usual, confident, sleazy array of expressions, but it looked nice on him.

“He is obnoxious,” Tsukishima said, still glaring in the direction Terushima disappeared.

Kuroo chuckled. “You’re not wrong. He’s also drunk, and probably really high, so you can’t really blame him.” A man with blue eyes and black hair that hung in his face came up to Kuroo, whispering to him with a hand covering his mouth. Kuroo’s smile diminished, and he was nodding. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, expression deepening into a scowl. His eyes drifted off to the crowd, not focused on any one thing, just listening to the other man. Tsukishima just watched Kuroo’s still face, eyes moving over his eyelashes, down slope of his nose, to the shape of Kuroo’s lips. In this light, the hollows of his cheeks looked even deeper, thanks to his sharp cheekbones.

The man with black hair stood, looking at Kuroo with his narrow blue eyes. “Thank you, Kageyama,” Kuroo said, standing. “I’ll let the others know.” Kageyama nodded and walked off without another word.

Kuroo leaned over and said something to Bokuto and Akaashi, his voice too low for Tsukishima to hear what he was saying. Bokuto’s eyes were intense, bright gold and wide, staring off into the distance, over Kuroo’s shoulder. Akaashi kept the same expression on his face, but nodded slowly.

Kuroo stood up from the couch, regarding the blond. “Hey, Tsukki, I’ll be right back, I have to go find Oikawa.” Kuroo said, sounding more professional than he had before, even while using the stupid nickname. His words were straight to the point, his voice businesslike.

Tsukishima crossed one of his legs over the other. Now that Kuroo was no longer to distract him, he had a chance to actually observe the party. Between the dancefloor and himself, was a man, possibly taller than Tsukishima. He was talking loudly, speaking another language, that sounded like Russian. He wore a short-sleeved button up, printed with cats. His limbs were long and thin, and he moved like he didn’t quite understand how his body worked. He had neatly parted silver hair, wide, green, cat-like eyes, and a huge smile on his face. He was talking to a man much shorter than him, also speaking Russian, who didn’t look pleased with the conversation. The taller man kept bending his knees and waist to be at eye-level with the shorter man.

The shorter man had light brown hair and eyes. He was wearing a plain white button up, slacks, and a grey tie. The only noticeably unusual characteristic of his appearance were the bandages around his fingers, and the ones disappearing under the sleeves of his shirt. He looked regular enough, but there must’ve been something more about him than just his looks.

To Tsukishima’s right, the bouncer and the bartender—Kyoutani and Yahaba—were making out, Yahaba tightly straddling the other man’s hips. Red lipstick was smeared over both of their faces, and Tsukishima could see the grill on Kyoutani’s lower teeth when he pulled at Yahaba’s lips with his teeth. There was hardly any space between them. Tsukishima looked away, disgusted.

Opposite of the couple was a man who could’ve been the dictionary definition of ethereal. He had silvery-grey hair, smooth, creamy skin, and just radiated kindness. He had a mole under his left eye, and a gentle smile on his face. He was wearing a pink leather vest, unzipped to show the black fishnet shirt that extended down to his wrists and was tucked into his pants. He wore heels tall enough to look dangerous, even with how naturally sweet he looked. False lashes were glued to his upper and lower eyelids, glitter sprinkled under his eyes and over his cheeks, as if he had somehow been crying silver and rainbow glitter. He was flirting with a man who was sitting on one of the couches, talking to him breathily, touching him with the tips of his fingers.

The man sitting on the couch had a wide blond mohawk, the sides black. When he turned his head, Tsukishima saw that he was wearing a white contact in his left eye. He had obviously shaved the ends of his eyebrows, so they were just thick, angled points. He was wearing a leather jacket, complete with pins and patches. He had a silver grill on the top set of his teeth, a spiked ring around two of his fingers, as was a spiked choker around his neck. He had a naturally mean face, but he was currently gazing up at the silver haired man, amazed at whatever he was saying.

Akaashi and Bokuto were now making out next to the blond. Tsukishima looked at them disgustedly and stood up to walk to the bar. People moved out if his way quickly, either because of his scowl or his height.

He sat down on one of the stools at the bar, looking at the new bartender. It was the red-haired man that had been snorting stuff off of someone’s back. His hair was red and stuck straight up, as if he’d been hung upside-down, or electrocuted. The latter was more believable, because his eyes were wide, pupils dilated, and he was bouncing around energetically, pouring people’s drinks. His eyes flickered around the room, taking in his surroundings as much as he possibly could with the drugs running through his system. His eyes locked on to Tsukishima, but they still weren’t quite focused.

“Eh, you’re the newbie that was with Kuroo earlier, yeah?” he asked, voice high and lilting.

Tsukishima pushed his glasses up with a finger. “I suppose I am.”

“What do you want to drink?” he asked, turning towards the counter.

“Just get me a shot of something, I don’t care what.” Tsukishima realized that he was going to have to be a bit drunker if he was planning on staying for the afterparty. Dealing with people was a hassle, and he might as well have been drunk to do so.

The man set a shot glass in front of Tsukishima, wide eyes flickering up and down the blond. “So, you two fucking or _what_?”

Tsukishima downed the shot just in time for that question. He sent the red-haired man a glare and a nasty sneer. “He simply invited me to this party, and I came.”

The other man did a small little dance, apparently pleased with the blond’s response. “Oh boy, big man Kuroo Tetsurou is fucking with you, deary.” He waved a long, bandaged finger in front of his face, earning a deeper scowl. “I’d be careful, otherwise those pretty little finger of yours are going to get cut right off.” He slapped the counter with one of his hands, spinning around and laughing to himself.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. He was not ‘fucking’ with Kuroo, and he was fairly certain Kuroo wasn’t ‘fucking’ with him, either. Kuroo had flirted with him and invited him to this party, that was it. They hardly knew each other, and this man hopped up on drug was making assumptions that he, quite frankly, could not support with evidence or logic of any sort. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” He hoped he sounded as annoyed as he was. This was the exact reason he didn’t like people talking to him.

The bartended hooted a loud laugh. “Hoho, do you not know, little boy?” He gave a wide grin, eyes narrowed excitedly at Tsukishima. He cackled. “You’re fucking with a man whose father is part of the fucking Yakuza! Look around and open your eyes, sweetheart: everyone in this room except for you is affiliated with the Yakuza.”

“I—”

He grinned. “Well, I suppose you’re also with the Yakuza now, since you decided to show up tonight.” Another loud hoot, and he gestured around the room. “Welcome to our world, baby!”


	2. Philanthropy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The blond rolled his eyes. “Are you going to kiss me, or do I have to make the first move?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is moving really quickly so far, which is fantastic. Also, this chapter is gross and 50% porn. Sorry, I'm gross. Enjoy!

Kuroo Tetsurou loved people. That was a fact. He considered himself to be a very friendly, sociable person. The reason for that was because he loved observing humankind. And what better way to observe people than to be naturally charismatic, and draw the people to him?

Kuroo especially loved the eccentric and the unique—the people that stood out the most in the crowd. The people who obviously weren’t like everyone else. For example, everyone at his party was that type of person. There were freaks, weirdos, people who could speak ten different languages, people who didn’t look real. There were a lot of people who modified their body in several different ways, whether that be piercings, tattoos, colouring their hair, shaving of their eyebrows, or just the way they chose to dress themselves. Another perfect example was Tsukishima Kei. He undoubtedly stood out in a crowd, and he didn’t even want to.

It wasn’t the blond’s height that made him stand out, although that didn’t exactly draw attention away from him. It was the whole vibe he gave off. That’s what it was. Tsukishima had frigid air surrounding him, the same frigidness in his eyes and on the tips of his fingers, freezing everything he touched. He certainly froze Kuroo the first time he saw him. Tsukishima seemed pessimistic and tired with the world, but he also seemed like he thought he was better than everyone. He reminded Kuroo of Akaashi, on the opposite side of the colour spectrum.

When Terushima had come up to them to introduce himself, and Tsukishima had been so mercilessly cruel with his biting words, Kuroo thought he was going to fall in love right then and there. It was clear that Tsukishima didn’t care about anyone else’s feelings. He didn’t care what people thought about him, what people said to him, and it was so, so appealing to Kuroo.

Maybe Kuroo had a fucked up idea of appeal.

Kuroo, unfortunately, got pulled away from his new, interesting blond, when Kageyama arrived. “Daishou wants to meet, a week from today, to discuss financial matters. He says he wants back the money you and Bokuto stole, or he’s going to burn this place to the ground.”

“Fuck.” So, maybe a few weeks ago, Kuroo and Bokuto had gotten really drunk, and decided to pull a prank on one of Kuroo’s many enemies, Daishou Suguru. Both of their fathers were in the Yakuza, as were Bokuto and Akaashi’s. They broke into Daishou’s house, or rather, mansion, with a bit of help from Tendou, and stole a few suitcases full of money. But it was all in good fun. Daishou just didn’t know how to take a joke.

Kuroo, of course, had to tell the other three. He didn’t meet, or even associate with anyone without those three at his side. If things got out of hand, they’d either help Kuroo talk his way out of trouble, or fight his way through it.

“In all fairness,” Oikawa said with raised eyebrows, “I told you two that it was a bad idea.” He was leaning against the wall opposite of the bar, making eyes at someone in the distance.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kuroo sighed. “And I told you to stop me if you really wanted to, but here we are.” Oikawa rolled his eyes. “Anyway, that doesn’t fucking matter. I have to give Daishou back three suitcases full of cash, otherwise he’ll burn my penthouse down. We’re meeting in a week, and as usual, I want you there.”

Oikawa sighed. “I’m always there when you ask me to be, Kuroo.” That much was true. Oikawa was always at Kuroo’s side when he needed it. He just got a lot of unwanted attitude in return.

“Thank you, Oikawa.” Kuroo followed Oikawa’s gaze into the crowd, but he couldn’t quite make out who he was looking at. “Why are you trying to seduce now?” Kuroo chuckled, shaking his head.

Oikawa gave a dreamy sigh. “Terushima.” He stood up straight, adjusting the rolex around his wrist. He looked at Kuroo with big, serious, brown eyes. “He really does give amazing blowjobs, you know.”

Kuroo laughed loudly. “God, Tooru, I thought you were going to say something insightful, and you hit me with information about his blowjob skills?” He was leaning against the wall with a hand, the other arm clutching his stomach as he keeled over with laughter.

Oikawa tapped a finger to his chin, looking up at the ceiling. “Was it not insightful?”

Kuroo laughed hardly, wiping tears from his eyes. Oikawa really could be a fucking genius, sometimes. “Alright,” Kuroo breathed, a laugh bubbling up from his throat. “I’m going to go find Tsukishima. Be safe.” Kuroo let out another chuckle before shaking his head and walking off into the crowd.

…

Tsukishima was sitting alone on one of Kuroo’s couches, glaring at everyone who passed him. He wore a plain blue t-shirt and jeans, yet he still managed to look more beautiful than most the people in the room. In the party lighting, he looked even more otherworldly than usual. His long limbs were stretched out, legs crossed over each other, his wrist dangling off of his leg, letting his fingers hand, showing their thinness and length. His hair almost looked white, the blue light cancelling out the yellow, showing the soft curls.

“Hey, Tsukki,” Kuroo grinned, slumping onto the couch next to him. His knee bumped the blond’s momentarily, and he swore he could feel electricity pulsing through his legs and up his spine.

“You’re a part of the Yakuza,” Tsukishima said. There was no question in the way he said it, it was a statement. Tsukishima had somehow figured out what Kuroo had avoided bringing up. Kuroo hadn’t wanted to scare him.

Kuroo chuckled. It was a nervous habit, sometimes. “Not exactly. My father is, and I’m indirectly affiliated with them.”

Tsukishima looked over Kuroo’s face, analyzing his features and expression. “Alright,” he shrugged, looking back into the crowd of dancing people. He didn’t look mad, or afraid, or even remotely surprised. “That would explain where you get all of your money.”

Kuroo raised his eyebrows at the blond. “You’re not surprised that I’m affiliated with the Yakuza?” This kid must be crazy. The Yakuza was a terrifyingly powerful force, and Tsukishima was surrounded by them.

“Not really.”

Kuroo grinned incredulously. “Can I kiss you?” he blurted. Mistake. Kuroo had not meant to say that, he was just so amazed at the blond’s views. No one had ever been so nonchalant about Kuroo being in the Yakuza. Tsukishima acted as if it were nothing, like Kuroo had just announced that he was taking a chemistry class, or bought a new pair of shoes.

Tsukishima’s face flickered into a frown, just for a moment, before he shrugged. “Alright.”

Kuroo blinked at the blond, and laughed. “You must be totally fucking crazy,” he said, turning Tsukishima’s head with a hand. He leaned in, meeting Tsukishima’s lips with a wide smile.

Tsukishima parted his lips almost instantly, inviting Kuroo’s to deepen the kiss, sucking at his lips. Teeth grazed Kuroo’s lower lip, tugging at it, and a low growl rose from the darker haired man’s throat. Kuroo bit Tsukishima’s lip, hard enough to earn a small gasp that quickly turned into a soft moan.

Kuroo pulled away quickly. Tsukishima’s lips were a slight darker pink than they had been before, shining with Kuroo’s saliva. “I have to stop right now or I’m going to take you into my room and fuck you over my bed before this party can end.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips. “Maybe later, then.”

=

The only people who ended up staying for the after party were Bokuto, Akaashi, Tsukishima, and of course, Kuroo. Oikawa had decided that he was going to miss out on this afterparty due to his Terushima-filled schedule.

Bokuto was lying on the floor, his upper half in Akaashi’s lap, the two of them sharing a joint. Tsukishima was sitting on the floor, sharing a joint with Kuroo, the joint currently between his lips as he inhaled. They’d done edibles beforehand, and Kuroo was _really_ starting to feel it now. He was trying to listen to what Bokuto was saying, but he kept losing track of time, attention popping into reality every few minutes.

Kuroo reclined onto the floor, head hitting the carpet. They were in his room, which was now filled with smoke. Kuroo had shed his fur coat and a few of his rings after the party, setting them aside. It was too warm to wear the coat right now, and with all the smoke, Kuroo would feel like he was suffocating.

“Daishou is such a bitch, honestly,” Bokuto said, face twisted into a sour expression. He handed the joint up to Akaashi.

“Yeah, he fucking is,” Kuroo agreed. “Obviously, we weren’t being hostile, otherwise we would’ve broken a few windows or something. God, I hate him.”

Tsukishima leaned over Kuroo, looking at him. His eyes were half lidded and red, not quite focused on the man lying on the floor. “Who’s Daishou, and why is he a bitch?” Tsukki asked, frowning a bit. Kuroo started laughing, stomach shaking, and he couldn’t stop. It felt so good to laugh, but it felt even better when Tsukishima handed him the blunt, and their fingertips brushed against each other. One of the main things Kuroo loved about being high was how _good_ physical contact felt.

While Kuroo was laughing, he heard Akaashi start to explain. “A few weeks ago, Bokuto and Kuroo broke into Daishou’s house and took a bunch of money from him. Daishou is another member of the affiliated Yakuza.”

Kuroo stopped laughing to see Tsukishima raise his eyebrows. “Fuck,” he said nonchalantly, causing Kuroo to crack up again, this time getting Bokuto to join him. The both of them were rolling on the floor, hooting laughter, practically shaking the entire floor.

“Don’t mind them, they’re giggly stoners,” Akaashi said.

Tsukishima set his hand on Kuroo’s chest, looking down at the darker haired man. He blinked slowly, not saying anything, just watching the other. “What, Tsukki?” he smiled up at the blond.

The blond’s eyes narrowed. “Your hair is ridiculous.”

Kuroo gasped dramatically, putting a hand to his chest in overexaggerated hurt. He’d forgotten that Tsukishima’s hand was already on him, so he was basically just covering the taller man’s hand with his own. “My hair is an art amongst itself,” he said. “Just kidding, I don’t do this on purpose.” He twirled a piece of his hair between his fingers, eyes looking up at it.

Tsukishima snorted. “That isn’t purposeful?” He snickered behind a head, eyebrows raised amusedly.

“No, it’s not on purpose. It’s just bedhead,” Kuroo pouted. Bokuto made some sort of squawking noise and rolled over, laughing into Akaashi’s lap. Kuroo couldn’t convince himself to stop looking at Tsukishima, so he didn’t. Tsukishima was fucking beautiful, even from this angle.

Tsukishima nodded, eye’s locked onto Kuroo’s face. Kuroo didn’t know exactly why he kept staring at him, but he didn’t mind, since it meant he could do the same.

#

Tsukishima was, admittedly, pretty high. He hadn’t gotten high or drunk in a while, and he figured now was a good time to do it, since Kuroo was attractive, and he didn’t have class the next day.

He kept catching himself staring at Kuroo. He’d be thinking about one thing or another, and when he’d blink a few times and join reality again, he was usually always staring right at Kuroo’s face. He didn’t mind, because let’s face it, Kuroo’s facial structure was kindred to a god’s. From this close, Tsukishima could see that he had lighter specks of gold in his dark, honey-coloured eyes.

A few hours had passed. They’d been sitting in silence for a while, in their own thoughts, or observing the room around them. Bokuto was still lying in Akaashi’s lap, the darker haired man running his fingers through white and black hair. Bokuto looked like he was about to drift off to sleep. Kuroo had his hand in the air, and he was squinting at it, moving it through the light coming from the ceiling. He looked peaceful, and far less cocky than he had previously. He was just resting, eyes following the movement of his fingers, mouth a soft, relaxed line.

Akaashi cleared his throat, urging Bokuto to sit up. “We should get going,” he said. He stood up, Bokuto quickly following after him, stretching his arms up towards the ceiling.

Kuroo dropped his arm to the floor, limp. “You safe to drive, Akaashi?” he asked, sitting up on his elbows to look at the couple.

“I’m fine. See you later, Kuroo. Tsukishima.” He nodded to both of them, laced his thin, pale fingers with Bokuto’s thick ones, and walked out of Kuroo’s room, closing the door behind them.

Kuroo sighed contentedly. “Good kids,” he said.

“Are their parents in the Yakuza?” Tsukishima asked. There were so many people affiliated with the Yakuza, many more than Tsukishima had expected.

“Yep. Akaashi was brought up way more harshly than I was—the kid has some serious problems because of it. But he’s fucking awesome with weapons, and he’s smart as hell. He can actually do pretty much anything I’d ever need him to do. He can fight hand to hand, with a gun, and especially with knives. He’s good with computers, and with money, and he keeps a very concise schedule for how everything should go. He’s every Yakuza member’s dream boy, realistically.”

“Interesting.”

“Bokuto’s just a fucking monster, dude. It isn’t even because his dad’s in the Yakuza, he just likes working out, and he’s one hell of a hand-to-hand combat fighter. He’s pretty much all of our brawn, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I have.” Oikawa, Kuroo, and Akaashi were all muscular, to an extent, but none of them were huge like Bokuto. They were toned, and probably strong, but Bokuto looked strong, and that’s where they differed.

“Oikawa also pushes himself, way more than he needs to. The kid’s kind of a fucking genius, like seriously. He can read people better than anyone I’ve ever met, no matter how reserved they seem to be. He’s great with weapons, but he doesn’t think so, so he’s always training as much as he can. It’s really admirable, actually. He’s also our best seductress, for obvious reasons, followed by Akaashi.” Kuroo chuckled. “And seduction is a very important tactic, in this world.”

Tsukishima hummed in response. “What can you do?”

Kuroo shrugged. “I can shoot a gun. I’m good at talking my way out of things.” He shrugged again. “People tend to like me a lot, which makes me a good head man. Can’t have people hating the leader of a subgang.”

“It’s because you’re charismatic.”

Kuroo grinned his Cheshire grin. “Well, thanks, Tsukki.”

“Shut up,” Tsukishima said, no real bite to his words. “I’m stating a fact.”

“Still,” Kuroo hummed, “that’s sweet of you to say. Compliments are so much better coming from a bitter person such as yourself.”

The blond rolled his eyes. “Are you going to kiss me, or do I have to make the first move?” He hadn’t stopped thinking about when he and Kuroo had kissed earlier, or the warning Kuroo had given about fucking Tsukishima on the bed. It was about time.

Kuroo laughed, bringing a hand up to pull Tsukishima down by his shoulder. “Come here, oh bitter one.” Kuroo began the kiss with a smile, again. Tsukishima’s lips met teeth and soft lips, pulling him in closer. Their lips started sliding together, Tsukishima sucking on Kuroo’s lips, leaning down closer. Kuroo tasted like smoke, weed, and alcohol, filling the blond’s senses and making him crave more. The blond swiped his tongue across Kuroo’s lower lip, tasting as much of him as he could. The darker haired man parted his lips invitingly, allowing Tsukishima to slide their tongues against each other’s, saliva mingling. Kuroo exhaled a chuckle through his nose, using a hand to push Tsukishima up off of him. “Wanna fuck?”

Tsukishima smirked. “Wasn’t that the plan?” It certainly was _his_ plan, ever since Kuroo had kissed him.

Kuroo grinned, sitting up on the floor. “Get on my bed.” His voice was low, not quite a whisper, but quiet enough to be hard to hear. His voice sounded deeper than usual, rough, as if he were giving a demand to one of his subordinates. It enveloped Tsukishima in warmth that felt like it was scorching under his skin, burning away the ice inside of his body.

Tsukishima didn’t hesitate to stand up and sit on the edge of Kuroo’s bed, kicking off his shoes. Kuroo stood and kissed him, using that kiss to push him down onto the bed. He moved the blond’s legs onto the bed, straddling him so he could kiss him harder. Kuroo kissed slow and deep, and a bit rough, which was exactly how Tsukishima wanted it.

While Kuroo was unbuttoning the blond’s pants, he started kissing his neck, sending goosebumps over his pale skin. He was sucking a mark into Tsukishima’s neck that would definitely be dark the next day. One of the downsides about having fair skin was how easily marks and bruises showed up, and how much they contrasted against the white colour.

Kuroo sat up on his knees to unbutton his dark red shirt, and throw it off the side of the bed. Well. Kuroo was a bit more than toned, to put it lightly. Tsukishima’s eyes traveled from the huge muscles in his shoulders, down a muscular chest, and over his stomach. He had scars all over his torso, one running from his right collar bone, over his pectoral, extending to the center of his chest. There was one on his left shoulder, skin white and raised, down the length of his arm, going down mid-bicep. One started a few inches right of his bellybutton, going diagonally down onto his hip. There was one on the inside of his right forearm, and another on the left side of his ribcage. The scars were beautiful, in their own way, pale white and jagged lines contrasting against Kuroo’s perfectly smooth, olive skin. Tsukishima briefly decided that he would not mind putting hickeys all over that physique. Kuroo grinned, well aware of what Tsukishima was looking at. “Like what you see?” he said in that torturously deep voice.

Tsukishima inhaled steadily, eyes still glued to Kuroo’s muscles. “Not bad,” he admitted.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Kuroo said, swooping down to kiss the blond again. His hands were immediately under Tsukishima’s shirt, rough palms sliding against the soft skin of his ribcage, and over his stomach. Tsukishima arched his back into Kuroo’s touch, marveling at how good Kuroo’s hands felt on him. “I am really glad you’re down to fuck, honestly,” he grinned, pulling the blond’s shirt over his head, discarding it with how own shirt.

“Get on with it, then,” Tsukishima teased, narrowing his eyes at the older man.

Kuroo laughed, a pleasant, throaty sound, and dragged Tsukishima closer to him by the beltloops of his jeans. Kuroo was kneeling between his legs, looking rather pleased with himself. Tsukishima lifted his slender hips so Kuroo could pull his pants off of his legs, leaving on his boxers. When they were off, Kuroo’s wide eyes slowly traveled up the length of Tsukishima’s legs, rough palms close behind. “Holy fuck,” Kuroo breathed, hands caressing the tops of Tsukishima’s thighs.

“Like what you see?” Tsukishima mimicked, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Fuck,” Kuroo said. He was rubbing his hands up and down the taller man’s legs, looking completely mesmerized. “Not bad, Tsukki.” He shifted back onto the bed, bending down so he could start sucking on the insides of Tsukishima’s thighs. He was sucking dark marks into the blond’s pale skin, not in any particular pattern, or way. Kuroo’s mouth felt good, tongue circling the abused skin, lips kissing his thighs as if they were a godsend. Teeth scraped the inside of Tsukishima’s thigh, earning a small gasp. Half-lidded eyes met Tsukishima’s, and teeth sunk into the skin at the very top of his thigh. Tsukishima’s gasp turned into a whine, which turned into a pleased moan. Kuroo tugged at the skin there with his teeth, a wide smile on his face. Tsukishima was definitely going to have marks come tomorrow.

Kuroo kissed his way up Tsukishima’s left leg, biting his clothed hip, then kissed his way up the blond’s stomach and chest, tongue dragging over the sensitive skin there. He started kissing his neck again, sucking a mark right at the front of his throat, then moving to the unmarked side. Tsukishima’s hands came up to idly tangle in Kuroo’s hair, which was surprisingly soft. Kuroo but Tsukishima’s neck, mouth pulling away with a popping sound. He kissed up the other’s jaw, and then back to his lips, where he was greeted with a lot of tongue, Tsukishima’s hands pulling Kuroo closer.

Kuroo unbuttoned and unzipped his own pants, rolling them down to his thighs. Tsukishima was hard by now, length pressing into Kuroo’s hip as he laid over him. “Let me blow you,” Tsukishima murmured against Kuroo’s lips, the darker haired man’s lips parted, heavy breath escaping them.

“Where have you been all my life?” Kuroo said, sitting up on his knees. His lips were red, half-lidded eyes blown black from arousal, hair even messier than it had been before.

“Not affiliated with the Yakuza,” Tsukishima pointed out, turning over so he could lay in his stomach, eye level with Kuroo’s hardening bulge. He pulled the darker haired man’s boxers down, wrapping his slim fingers around his cock and pressed the flat of his tongue to the head.

“ _Hah_ , fair enough,” Kuroo breathed, a hand coming up to curl in Tsukishima’s hair.

Tsukishima slid his lips over the head, sucking hard, his tongue rubbing against the slid. Kuroo gave a laboured exhale, his fingers tightening in Tsukishima’s hair, urging him forward. The taller man’s mouth enveloped Kuroo’s length, sliding over his tongue and hitting the back of his throat. Kuroo groaned loudly. Tsukishima pulled back, sucking hard, and started bobbing his head in an even rhythm. Every time the head of Kuroo’s cock hit the back of Tsukishima’s throat, he gave a small buck of his hips, obviously holding himself back for the blond’s sake.

“I can’t believe you of all people agreed to sleep with me after two days of knowing me,” Kuroo said.

The blond slid all the way off of Kuroo, a string of saliva connecting his lips and the head. “Why ‘me of all people?’” he asked. If Kuroo was talking about his disinterest in humankind, it made sense.

Kuroo chuckled. “If you hadn’t realized, you’re kind of reserved and bitter, Tsukki,” he smiled, running a hand through Tsukishima’s hair.

Tsukishima shrugged, pumping his hand over Kuroo’s cock. “Maybe you’re better at seduction tactics than you thought.” He raised an eyebrow, looking up at the darker haired man.

“Lay on your back,” Kuroo grinned, using a hand to shove Tsukishima down by the chest. “You’re cool with bottoming, yeah?” He grabbed lube and a condom out of his nightstand, setting the latter there for later.

Tsukishima took his glasses off and set them in Kuroo’s nightstand, looking up at the darker haired man. “Yes.” A smile twitched at the edges of his lips. “Just get on with it.”

Kuroo stared at Tsukishima for a moment, as if he were trying to figure the blond out. He shook his head, chuckling to himself, and swiftly pulled Tsukishima’s boxers down, letting his length rest against his hip. He nudged a knee between the blond’s legs, coming forward while spreading lube over his fingers. “I don’t understand you, Tsukki,” he admitted.

Tsukishima raised his eyebrows, doing his best to keep breathing steadily as a finger circled his hole, slick with lube. “Most people don’t.” He gasped when the tip of a finger slid inside of him, pushing past inner walls.

Kuroo’s eyes were downcast, staring at where his finger entered the blond. They flickered up to his face, just for a moment, hazel and gold flashing in the lights of his room, over Tsukishima’s face. “I want to.” He slid his finger in as far as it would go, twisting it, making the other man gasp. “You have no idea how much you intrigue me, Tsukishima Kei.”

Kuroo soon added a second finger, Tsukishima’s back arching away from the intrusive feeling, willing himself to relax. Kuroo fingered him until his hole was loose enough to twist two of his fingers in. He scissored his fingers in him, a small moan bubbling up from Tsukishima’s throat. He watched Kuroo’s face as he did this, filled with not only lust, but wonder as well. Tsukishima was rather well-reserved from everyone, for good reason. He didn’t want people to be able to read his every emotion. If he wanted someone to know something, he would tell them. It didn’t have to be complicated.

A long moan rose from the taller man’s throat when Kuroo pressed in a third finger. Kuroo’s fingers felt good, precise and soft, yet not too gentle. Tsukishima’s legs were spread wide, bent at the knee, giving Kuroo what he assumed was the perfect view. Kuroo was slowly twisting his fingers in, concentration apparent on his features. His lips were in his natural pout, something that seemed very rare to Tsukishima, for having just met him a few days ago. Kuroo was usually sporting a sly grin or smirk, or doing something other than letting his face rest. His eyes were on his hand, inky black eyelashes angled downwards and curled in the slightest, casting shadows over the curves of his cheeks. His cheekbones were casting soft shadows over his face, as was his lower lip, and the sharp line of his jaw. Kuroo curled his fingers upwards, rubbing against a sensitive bundle of nerves. Tsukishima moaned loudly, bucking against Kuroo’s fingers, vision going hazy with pleasure. He could feel the hitch in his own breathing.

Kuroo smiled, lips upturned in a pleasant, soft shape. He curled his fingers again, this time shifting his fingers farther into the blond. Tsukishima’s gasp turned into another loud moan, this one’s pitch higher than the last. “Fuck me,” Tsukishima breathed, fingers gently burying themselves in Kuroo’s sheets. His chest was rising and falling quickly with pleasured breaths of air.

“You sure you’re ready?” the darker haired man teased, hand reaching for the condom.

Tsukishima glared. “Shut the fuck up and get inside of me,” he demanded, spreading his legs wider, bending his knees more.

Kuroo laughed obnoxiously, rolling the condom onto his hard cock. “Impatient, are we?” he grinned, eyebrows arched mischievously high. “I never took you for the needy type.” He winked, scooting closer to Tsukishima, on his knees.

The taller man scowled. “It looks like you still have much to learn about me, doesn’t it?” Kuroo set Tsukishima’s legs on his shoulders, ignoring his distasteful expression.

The head of Kuroo’s cock pressed against his entrance, pulling a small gasp out of him. Kuroo’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, momentarily distracting the blond. He grabbed Tsukishima’s hip tightly, thumb digging into sharp hipbone, and he slowly pressed in, the head of his cock stretching Tsukishima, and eagerly being swallowed by his hole. It felt like Kuroo was going to tear him in half, but it felt _so_ fucking good. The blond was being stretched around Kuroo’s slick cock, taking in inch by inch, until Kuroo’s hips met his ass.

Kuroo brought another hand up to grip at the blond’s hips, fingers digging into him so hard he was sure he’d leave bruises. “Fuck,” he groaned, not moving his hips, just breathing heavily.

Tsukishima wiggled his hips, shifting down closer to the other man. He took a few deep breaths before he could form a coherent sentence. “Fucking _move_ ,” he scowled, hands sliding up Kuroo’s chest, over his scars, to lace around his neck. Tsukishima was practically bent in half, between his legs on Kuroo’s shoulders, and hands looped over his neck, and it felt great. He could feel every inch of Kuroo stretching him apart.

Kuroo started thrusting slowly, shallowing, laughing at the blond’s desperation. “You are really going to have me whipped in no time, aren’t you?” His words were breathy, a sign to Tsukishima that he was feeling just as good as Tsukishima was. His fingers were digging into the blond’s narrow hips, using his hips to pull him onto his cock. Quiet moans escaped Tsukishima with every thrust Kuroo made, becoming louder when the darker haired man sped up his pace.

Tsukishima’s eyes scanned the older man’s body, flitting over bulging biceps and the raised scars on his skin. He could see the muscles in his hips flexing and moving with every thrust. “If this,” he breathed, “is how it’ll be when I do—” A moan escaped his lips, fingernails scraping into the back of Kuroo’s neck as his cock hit his prostate. “Then yes.” He panted the last words. Kuroo was thrusting quickly, cock sliding in and out of Tsukishima.

Kuroo’s hair was the messiest it ever had been, since Tsukishima had met him. It looked ridiculous, and Tsukishima hated how attracted he was to it. Dark hazel eyes were blown black with lust, Kuroo staring down at the blond like he was finally, finally able to eat him alive, like he always planned to from the start. His lips were red from kissing Tsukishima so hard, parted so growls and groans of pleasure could escape the confines of his throat. His muscles were rippling, shifting under olive skin with every movement, shadows contouring Kuroo’s physique.

Tsukishima was grinding against Kuroo’s thrusts, trying to get as much sensation as possible. Kuroo was working his hips against the blond’s, sharp hipbones bruising the backs of pale thighs. He wrapped a hand around Tsukishima’s cock, pumping in time with his thrusts. Kuroo’s hands were rough and big, squeezing and tugging Tsukishima in all the right places, beckoning him closer to orgasm. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this, Tsukki,” Kuroo murmured, eyes scanning the fucked-out expression on the taller man’s face.

Tsukishima’s expression apparently wasn’t enough for the man, because he dragged himself out slow, until just the head was inside of Tsukishima, and then he slammed his hips forward, cock hitting sensitive nerves and making Tsukishima’s vision a blur. Tsukishima moaned at the sensation, loud and high-pitched, precome leaking from the head of his cock. Kuroo was jerking him off quickly, fingers rubbing along sensitive veins. Every snap of Kuroo’s hips resulted in a breathy moan from the blond, fingernails scraping jagged red lines down Kuroo’s muscular back. His cock was slippery, easily pounding into Tsukishima, spreading him apart and ramming into his prostate.

Kuroo leaned down, still thrusting, to his Tsukishima’s pale chest, sucking on his skin. He licked a line of saliva up his ribcage, to his nipple. His tongue was warm and wet, circling Tsukishima’s nipple, before his mouth latched into it, sucking at the sensitive skin. Tsukishima’s back arched, lifting himself up so he could be closer to Kuroo’s mouth. Kuroo kissed his way over to the other nipple, sucking and biting at the hardening flesh. Tsukishima gasped. Precome was dripping hot and pearly down Tsukishima’s shaft, and Kuroo was using his it to slide over the head of his cock, thumbing over the slit.

“I’m going to come soon,” Tsukishima warned with a gasp. His fingernails were scraping down Kuroo’s back for a second time, hips wiggling and grinding into Kuroo’s cock.

Kuroo was sucking on Tsukishima’s neck, teeth nipping and biting at the soft skin, completely ridding Tsukishima of any focus he had to begin with. His mouth felt so good on the blond’s neck, wet with saliva, teeth and lip closing around the area. He was fisting over Tsukishima’s cock quickly, in time to the thrusts Kuroo was slamming into him. There was so much sensation on Tsukishima’s body, and he was completely lost in it.

“Me too,” Kuroo panted. “You feel so fucking good.”

Tsukishima whined low in his throat. He could feel his orgasm approaching, quicker with every second Kuroo was touching him. The darker haired man thrusted hard and deep, hitting Tsukishima’s prostate over and over again, until white flashed over his vision, orgasm making the muscles in his body tremble. He came hot over Kuroo’s fingers and his own stomach, pulsing around the darker haired man’s girth. He was moaning loudly, fingers digging into the flesh of Kuroo’s back, pulling him closer.

Kuroo’s thrusts were quickly becoming sloppier, breath more laboured. His grip on Tsukishima’s hip was deadly, the other hand smearing Tsukishima’s own come over his stomach. His eyes were unfocused, staring at the blond’s face. “Fuck,” he growled, speeding up his thrusts. He kissed Tsukishima on the mouth, open-mouthed and sloppy, panting into his lips. Tsukishima sucked on his bottom lip, still sensitive from his orgasm, small whimpers rising up from his throat. “ _Fuck_.” His voice was rough and deep, sending shivers over Tsukishima’s body, as the words were said right against the blond’s lips. Kuroo gave a few more thrusts before groaning, eyes closed, hips shaking as he came.

When he was finished, Kuroo disposed of the condom and fell onto the bed next to Tsukishima, aftershocks shaking through his legs. They were both still trying to catch their breaths, that being the only sound in Kuroo’s room, at the moment. Tsukishima’s entire body felt like it was buzzing with released tension and energy, warm and comfortable.

“Hey, Tsukki,” he said. His voice was a low rumble, coursing through the blond’s body in pleasant waves.

“What?”

The sound of contented, steady breaths filled the room. Kuroo leaned up on an elbow to look at Tsukishima, who was still lying on his back as he had been. “I’m pretty sure that was the best sex of my life.”

#

Kuroo was content, in the weirdest way he had been in a while. Despite his dreaded meeting with Daishou, Kuroo spent his days either in glass, getting drunk or high, and hanging out with Tsukishima.

The kid was still an asshole, don’t get him wrong. It was one of the things he liked most about Tsukishima. It was also the reason Kuroo had thought that he’d be such a good addition to his sub-Yakuza gang. Tsukishima was an asshole to him, but much less so than he had been to, say, Terushima, for example. He was fairly respectful to Kuroo, for the most part, and only made fun of him or taunted him when Kuroo was doing the same thing back. Plus, Tsukki actually didn’t hate Kuroo, or spending time with him. That felt like a damned accomplishment to Kuroo.

When they were together, they were usually getting baked or drunk off their asses, until one of them decided it was time to make out. It was usually Kuroo, but he had a perfectly good excuse: He simply couldn’t keep his hands off the blond. Ever since they’d slept together, Kuroo had been wanting more and more. Not just sex. Any sort of physical contact with Tsukishima was a success to him, in one way or another. The blond was so bitter, yet so soft and pale. His legs were the longest things Kuroo had ever seen, and it was honestly captivating. When Tsukishima was showing his legs, Kuroo physically could not convince himself to look elsewhere. His eyes stayed glued to those milky white, and perfectly smooth, godsend legs.

Every time Tsukishima was even half naked, Kuroo was completely mesmerized, because he didn’t understand how someone could possibly be so beautiful. He also couldn’t bring himself to understand how the most beautiful person on the planet was currently sleeping with him. That was a miracle in on itself.

Kuroo had known Tsukishima for about two weeks, now. His meeting with Daishou was tomorrow, so yeah, about two weeks. This small amount of time was really a problem for Kuroo, because the more time he spent around Tsukishima, the more he found himself craving the blond. Even if they weren’t having sex or making out, Kuroo genuinely liked being in his presence, and it was fucking him up so badly.

Kuroo was starting to like Tsukishima Kei.

Yes, Tsukishima Kei, The most bitter, unpleasant man on the face of this earth. The man who sneered at total strangers just because he didn’t like people confronting him for any reason. The one who had no interest in humankind, including himself, was the most interesting man Kuroo had ever had the pleasure of meeting. He disliked people, and socialization, and the general idea of being kind to others. He was not fond of people, but Kuroo was so, insanely fond of him. He was intimidating, and shockingly beautiful, and so unique it almost blew Kuroo’s fucking mind. He had never met anyone like Tsukishima before. That, itself, was a rarity. Kuroo had met every version of every person, before. Even the people who came to his parties had some preconceived idea of inspiration for who they are and how they looked, but not Tsukishima. Tsukishima was completely his own person, and he didn’t give a fuck who liked it or not. He was flawed, and he accepted it. Kuroo had never met anyone who he could listen to talk for hours on end, but here he was, willing to do just that if Tsukishima would let him. He would have let Tsukishima destroy him, if that had meant he got to take a closer look at the mind of this remarkable, pale creature named Tsukishima Kei.

Fuck _starting_ to like him, Kuroo was already in deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually I take a lot of time for the characters to realize they have feelings for one another, but the plot is so important in this particular series, and there is a lot to get through, so it's best to get all of that out of the way.
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


	3. Immaculate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Nothing that went on in the Yakuza made sense to Tsukishima, and now he was a part of it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a slow, short chapter, so apologies! The main plot starts soon!

Kuroo was sitting in a white chair, in the conference room of Daishou’s father’s business. The walls were white, the table long and glass. There was a huge monitor attached to one of the walls. Akaashi, Bokuto, and Oikawa were standing behind him, each of them holding a suitcase.

Daishou was sitting directly in front of Kuroo, hands laced on the table in front of him. Four of his men were standing behind him, all wearing suits. Daishou was wearing a fitted dark green suit, white shirt and black tie underneath the suit jacket. His hair was neatly parted, bangs swept to the side. His skin practically matched the rest of the white in the room, he was so pale.

Kuroo winked at one of the men behind Daishou. “You’re looking as good as ever, Daichi,” he purred.

Daishou sat up in his seat. “Don’t talk to them, Kuroo.” His eyes were narrowed at Kuroo, disgust clear in them. They flickered to Kuroo’s neck momentarily.

Kuroo chuckled, shrugging. “Sorry, sorry. He is looking good, though. Has he been working out?” Kuroo was one-hundred percent sure that if Terushima saw him, he’d absolutely eat Daichi up. Daichi wouldn’t stand a chance against that one.

Daishou sighed loudly. “That doesn’t matter. What does matter, though, is the fact that you and your idiot friend broke into my house to steal my money.” Kuroo could hear Akaashi inhale sharply. Daishou drummed his long fingers on the table. “That’s my territory, Kuroo. You know that.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes dramatically. Daishou was such a baby about things like this. “It was just a fun little prank, Daishou. We didn’t even technically _break_ in, since we had our clever little Tendou with us. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Daishou huffed, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Whether it was a stupid joke or not, you very well know not to cross onto my turf. We made that agreement long ago.”

Kuroo snorted loudly. He was supposed to be in class right now, or even better, asleep, but he had to deal with Daishou’s emotional instability, once again. “As if you and your hotties don’t ever walk past my penthouse. Also, you threatened to burn my penthouse to the ground, over some prank, so you really have no room to talk about turf.” Kuroo wasn’t sure if Daishou actually had the balls to do something like that, but he wasn’t really up for taking chances. If his place got burned to the ground, Tsukki was no longer be able to go to his parties. That’d be a waste.

Daishou stuck his tongue out through his teeth. “I had to get your attention somehow. I didn’t want to have to get ahold of you through your daddy. I know how busy he is.” Somehow, Daishou respected Kuroo’s father, far more than he’d ever respect Kuroo himself.

“I’m pretty sure you mean my father,” Kuroo laughed. “My daddy’s an entirely different person altogether,” he laughed. He heard a snort from Bokuto, and one from two of Daishou’s men, Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who shared a look.

Daishou turned to give them a warning glare. They quickly stopped making noise, but still shared a few glances when he turned back around. “Shut your mouth, idiot,” he spat at Kuroo, face contorted in hatred for the other man. “Give me back my money.”

Kuroo motioned for Bokuto, Akaashi, and Oikawa to set the suitcases in front of the other man. When they were finished, they stepped back into place, behind Kuroo. “Are we done here, Daishou?” Kuroo asked, boredly. Oh man, imagine if Tsukishima met Daishou. He was sure the blond would hate him, just for his pompous looks and overdramatic behaviour.

Daishou pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just want to make it very clear to you that if you do something like this again, I will not hesitate to do something about you and your pesky little friends.” His dark eyes locked onto the three men standing behind Kuroo, challenging them to do something else.

Oikawa inhaled. “Oh, honey, I’m fairly certain you don’t want to do anything rash.” Kuroo could hear the sickly-sweet smile on his lips, voice breathy, yet intimidating.

Kuroo raised his eyebrows. “Take Oikawa’s word for it. You don’t wanna start anything with us.”

“But I will,” Daishou said, a finger snapping upwards to point at Kuroo’s face. “Don’t make any more of an enemy than you already have, Kuroo. We’re just as capable as your side is.” He was sneering the words, white teeth showing his aggression.

Kuroo shook his head, chuckling. “You have no idea what we can do, when the time is right. Anyway, when did the Yakuza split into two sides, Daishou? This wasn’t my doing,” he accused. “I don’t think your father—or your daddy, for that matter—would be pleased if they knew how you’d contested the Yakuza against itself.” He narrowed his eyes, a tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “It’s a stupid move, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid,” Daishou snapped. “I wasn’t the only one who split us up; you’re nearly as responsible as I am.

Kuroo snorted. “ _Nearly_.”

“We’re finished here,” Daishou said, obviously done with Kuroo’s sarcastic comments. “Get out.”

Kuroo made sure he took his sweet time standing up and walking over to the door. Bokuto, Akaashi, and Oikawa followed him out the door, Oikawa blowing a kiss to the rest of the room before shutting the door.

“That was more trouble than it was worth,” Oikawa said, stretching his long arms above his head.

“Fuck, you’re telling me,” Kuroo said. He nodded at a fellow member of the Yakuza as he walked down the hallways of the business. Daishou had always been one to blow things out of proportion and take unnecessary measures to feel like he resolved some amazing conflict.

“I’m just glad no one got hurt this time,” Akaashi said, lacing his fingers with Bokuto’s. Usually, when Daishou and Kuroo met up, it resulted in them getting in each other’s faces, or one of the other three starting something with one of Daishou’s men. What could he say, he and his friends liked to fight.

“I’d still like to wring Daishou’s neck sometimes,” Bokuto said, frowning. He was probably still annoyed over Daishou calling him an idiot.

Oikawa waved a hand in front of his face as he spoke. “I just think he is so overdramatic.” He gave a flip of his perfectly styled hair. “And this is coming from me.”

Oikawa had a fantastic point. If anyone loved drama, it was probably Oikawa. You knew you were a bit too much if Oikawa thought you were.

“Hey, guys, what do you say about letting Tsukki be a part of our group?” he had never met anyone as cool with the whole Yakuza thing as Tsukishima was. “He’s smart, and I think he’d be a good addition.”

Oikawa rolled his perfect brown eyes. “You’re not just saying this because you two are sleeping together, right?”

Kuroo frowned. “Of course I’m not.”

Bokuto jumped excitedly, pulling Akaashi with him. “I like Tsukki!”

Akaashi shrugged. “I’d be fine with it.”

The brunet sighed. “As long as he’s actually useful to someone other than you, then I _suppose_ it’s fine.”

Kuroo slid his sunglasses on before pushing the doors to outside open. “Well, I’ll see you all later. He opened the door of his car, sliding one leg in.

“Where you going, bro?” Bokuto asked, opening the door for Akaashi and slapping him on the ass. Akaashi tried to frown at his boyfriend, but he couldn’t keep the expression on his face.

Kuroo laughed at the couple. “I’m supposed to be hanging out with Tsukishima after his class gets out, in like.” He checked the watch at his wrist, “ten minutes.” They’d been texting for most of the day, and Kuroo was really looking forward to seeing the blond again.

Bokuto gave a happy grin. “Alright dude, have fun!” He got into his car, letting Kuroo slip into the front seat of his own.

Kuroo was sure he would.

#

Tsukishima was sitting on the floor in Kuroo’s living room, his textbooks and homework on one of the ottomans. When Kuroo had invited him over, he’d declined by telling him he had homework to do. Kuroo had quickly responded that he could do his homework at Kuroo’s place, and he’d even try to be quiet during. He even offered to order the two of them lunch.

“Do you like mackerel?” Kuroo asked, scrolling on his phone for a place to eat. He was sitting across from the blond on one of his couches. His living room looked so much bigger without all the dancing people in it. The sun was filtering in through the glass walls.

“Sure,” Tsukishima said, not looking away from his homework.

“Alright,” Kuroo said. “I think I’m gonna order from one of my favourite places. They’re pretty close by, so it won’t be long.”

Tsukishima flipped the paper over, eyes glancing up to the other man. “That’s fine, thank you.” Kuroo was wearing a red leather jacket over a black button up and silver tie. His pants were the same, tight pants he always wore, but this time, they had silver accents. He worse his silver usual watch and rings. His shoes were red, laced with black strings. Tsukishima could see a few light hickeys spotted under his collar, and smiled to himself. Kuroo was calmer than usual. He was just sitting on the couch in silence, letting Tsukishima do his homework.

His calmness might have been due to the lack of other people around, but Tsukishima wasn’t sure. “How did the meeting with Daishou go?” he asked. He hadn’t ever met Daishou, but he’d heard plenty about him from Kuroo and Bokuto. He seemed incredibly annoying.

“It was fine,” Kuroo said. “Daishou was overdramatic about the whole situation, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from him.” Tsukishima nodded, still looking at his homework. “He threatened to ‘get rid of us’ if we piss him off again. I wonder how long it’s going to take us to piss him off again,” he laughed.

“You aren’t worried about his threats?”

“Nah,” Kuroo shrugged. “He’s done stuff like this before. He’s too much of a pussy to do anything about us. Plus, his dad would be _pissed_ if he even found out he was making threats like that. Yakuza aren’t supposed to fight each other.”

“Understandably.”

Kuroo’s eyes looked especially chatoyant in the sunlight, as if a fire was being lit under honey. His eyelashes framed the dark golden hue, pulling shadows over his high cheekbones every time he blinked. It seemed as if whenever Kuroo was in a room, the shadows crept towards him, creating definition in his facial structure.

“Daishou’s a skinny fucker, too. He couldn’t hurt me if he tried. I don’t think he’d even consider ever trying to fight Bokuto. Bo could snap him in half without breaking a sweat.” Kuroo laughed at his own words, the sound rumbling in his chest and bubbling up his throat. His smile was wide and relaxed. He was kind of beautiful, bathed in warm colours and sunlight.

“I’ll be finished with my homework soon,” Tsukishima said. “I did most of it in class.”

“Aw, Tsukki’s such a good student,” Kuroo teased. Tsukishima shot him a mean glare. “Our food will be here soon, so it’s perfect timing.” The blond watched Kuroo’s fingers as he twisted the first few buttons on his shirt open and loosened his tie. His fingers moved gracefully over the fabric. Kuroo usually did this when they were alone, or if it was just the two of them, Bokuto, Akaashi, and Oikawa.

“You still haven’t given up on that nickname,” he sighed.

Kuroo chuckled. “Of course I haven’t! I think it’s cute.” He popped his neck, another mannerism he had. His neck muscles shifted under the smooth skin of his neck. The hickeys were a light green by now, looking more like fingerprints than marks from the blond’s mouth. A darker purple one was on the right side of his neck, half hidden by the collar of his shirt.

“I should just call you Tetsu, or something equally as obnoxious,” Tsukishima said, rolling his eyes. When he looked up to smirk at the darker haired man, he saw Kuroo’s ears tinged with red, a wide-eyed expression on his face. His mouth was open like a fish’s, and Tsukishima figured he wasn’t really breathing, if he could tell by the look on his face.

“Tsukki, that’s _cute_ ,” Kuroo breathed, finally snapping back into reality.

Tsukishima grimaced. “Never mind, I refuse to call you that, now,” he said, closing his textbook and setting it back in his bag. He slid his papers in their respective folders, and set them in his bag as well. He stood up to set his bag by Kuroo’s front door.

Kuroo took off his red jacket and set in on the arm of the couch he was sitting on. He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows. He turned to the blond, a smile on his face. “Come here,” Kuroo said, eyes eating Tsukishima’s form up. They were travelling from the blond’s feet, slowly up his legs, and then up his long torso, to his face. He looked like a cat ready to play with his prey before devouring it in a single bite.

Tsukishima didn’t mind being Kuroo’s prey, in this instance.

Tsukishima stepped over the coffee table to sit next to Kuroo on the couch, immediately greeted by Kuroo’s lips against his own, in a smile. He parted his lips, breathing Kuroo in and tasting him as much as he could. The kiss started out gentle, Kuroo’s soft tongue just barely dancing past Tsukishima’s lips, his own lips just sliding against Kuroo’s. It was pleasant and relaxed. They were taking their time to build their arousal, and it felt nice to Tsukishima.

Kuroo pushed Tsukishima back onto the couch, using the kiss. He ran his tongue against the edges of the taller man’s teeth. His hand ran through blond curls, tugging gently. There was a knock on the door. Kuroo sighed against Tsukishima’s mouth, taking a moment before he stood up to get their food.

Tsukishima sat up, fixing his crooked glasses. He watched Kuroo at the door, talking to their food deliverer. His back muscles were prominent, even in the button up. The slacks he was wearing were tight in all the right places, hugging his muscular thighs and ass. Kuroo turned around, holding a paper bag of food, kicking the door shut behind him. He set the bag on the table in front of the couch and got two boxes of food out.

“So, I was thinking,” Kuroo said, opening his box in one swift movement. “I’ve already talked to everyone else about it, or at least the people who matter, and they’re fine with it, so do you want to be a part of my gang, with Bokuto, Akaashi, and Oikawa? I mean, there ae other people, like Yahaba and Terushima, but you’d be a part of the higher ups, if you wanted.” His hand was caught in the air, holding chopsticks between his fingers, completely still. He looked at Tsukishima with expectant eyes.

Tsukishima watched Kuroo’s face, to see if he was joking. Kuroo just looked at him, awaiting the blond’s answer. The blond sighed, shrugging his narrow shoulders. “I don’t see why not. I’m practically already a part of it.” He was, too. Nearly every day was spent with Kuroo, and most of the time, the other three were there as well. He wasn’t sure it’d be much different from how things usual were, these days.

Kuroo exhaled relief. “That makes me feel a lot better, actually. It’s not every day you ask someone to be a part of the Yakuza,” he said, then stuffed a piece of fish into his mouth.

Tsukishima never really thought of himself as someone who’d join the Yakuza. He was a good student, always finished his homework the same day he got it, and he studied for tests. He didn’t get excited, or into other people’s business. It was a surprise to him when he tolerated Kuroo and Bokuto in the same room for more than five minutes. And now the man he was sleeping with was a part of the Yakuza, and so was he. He didn’t think it’d change much in his life, but nonetheless, Tsukishima had still joined the Yakuza without a second thought.

Tsukishima chewed his food, watching the way Kuroo’s wavy hair fell in front of his eye. “I can’t imagine,” he said. Kuroo’s hair, despite being atrocious, was rather thick and wavy. Tsukishima supposed that the curls and waves only made it harder for him to manage. It worked for him, though.

The darker haired man knocked his knee against Tsukishima’s. “I’ll teach you whatever you need to know. I’m sure Akaashi and Bokuto wouldn’t have a problem helping you out either.” He slurped up a noodle. “They probably know just as much as I do.”

“Oikawa?” Tsukishima asked, his question clear. One thing he enjoyed about Kuroo was how little he had to elaborate his thought to be understood. Kuroo just understood what he was talking about.

Kuroo shrugged. “I’m not sure Oikawa would be as enthusiastic to teach you what he knows. He’s the type of person who makes sure he knows more than whoever he’s talking to.” Tsukishima nodded a response. “I can’t blame him, though, he’s an absolute genius. He just drives me crazy sometimes.”

“He’s annoying.” Out of Kuroo, Oikawa, Bokuto, and Akaashi, Oikawa was undoubtedly Tsukishima’s least favourite. He was childish and whiny, and loud about it. He was pompous and obnoxious, and those types of people just didn’t appeal to Tsukishima. Bokuto was loud and immature, but at least he didn’t _whine_ about everything. Tsukishima could hardly tolerate Bokuto most of the time, as it was.

Kuroo chuckled. “I knew you’d think so. Oikawa definitely is something, but I love him. I think you’ll get used to him, the more you’re around him.” Tsukishima scrunched his nose at the words. That was the problem. “I know, you don’t want to be around him. He’s really not as bad as he makes himself seem.”

“If he starts toning it down a bit, I won’t have a problem with him,” Tsukishima said, pushing his glasses up his nice.

Kuroo laughed loudly. “How’s your food?”

“It’s fine, thanks.” It was some sort of dish with noodles, vegetables, and grilled mackerel.

Kuroo closed his box of food, standing up to put it in the refrigerator. “You’re really cute, Tsukki,” he smiled at the blond. “We should have a party to commemorate you joining the Yakuza.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “That’s hardly necessary.”

A grin stretched across the darker haired man’s face. “It’s definitely happening.” He was typing on his phone. “Next Saturday at 9:00. It’ll be at a club Yahaba’s family owns. Everyone’s already been invited, so don’t worry about trying to get out of it.”

Tsukishima glared. “I just won’t show up.” Moments like these reminded the blond of how truly obnoxious Kuroo was.

Kuroo sat on the couch next to Tsukishima, barreling into him and pushing him sideways onto the couch. “Come on, you’re here all the time anyway, what’s one day going to hurt?” He poked Tsukishima in the side, earning a deeper scowl. “We have to introduce you to everyone else somehow.” Kuroo crawled half way on top of the blond, smothering him.

Tsukishima was attempting to push Kuroo off as he spoke. “I don’t need to meet anyone,” he scowled. “I especially don’t need a party to meet anyone.”

“C’mon, Tsukki,” Kuroo said with a predatory grin, sitting up. “Let me convince you of how good of an idea this is.” He grabbed Tsukishima by the wrist, and started pulling him towards his bedroom. Tsukishima could see the tendons in Kuroo’s hands, and the veins running thick up his forearms.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, letting Kuroo pull him. “Fine.”

#

Pink and blue lights were sting around the room, practically shaking with the volume of the music. The walls were painted black, reflecting the pink and blue. There were more grinding, sweating bodies than had been at Kuroo’s party the week previous. There was smoke wafting through the air, caught in the coloured lights. The ceiling was high, two metal poles attached to the ceiling and the high platforms on the cement floor. There was one person on each pole, one of them the shorter, silver haired man, the other the one he’d been flirting with. Pink lights were illuminating them from underneath, coming through the glass tops of the platforms.

The silver haired man was hanging upside down on the pole, on leg bent to wrap around the pole above him, the other extended behind him. One of his arms was hanging onto the pole under him, the other next to his bent leg. He was wearing shiny silver shorts that cut off above his upper thigh, exposing his pale legs. He wore pink heels, matching with the pink fishnet shirt that was tucked into the shorts. Glitter was spread over his body, on his legs and up to his neck, which was extended so that he was looking behind himself, pointing in the same direction as his extended leg.

“Hey, Suga,” Kuroo said, stopping next to the platform. The platform went up to just above Tsukishima’s waist.

Kuroo was wearing a black button up shirt, the top few buttons undone to expose his prominent collar bones, like he always did. He wore black slacks, paired with a burgundy suit jacket made out of something that looked like alligator skin. His shoes were the same colour as his jacket. He had his gold watch on, a thin gold chain wrapped tightly around his neck, and multiple rings on his fingers, including one on his left thumb. A dark bite mark was in his neck, just above his shirt collar, gold chain resting on top of it, contrasting against the dull, dark bruise. Tsukishima had a few bite marks of his own, on his shoulders, thighs, and the base of his neck. The collar of his shirt covered up the majority of his hickeys from Kuroo, besides a few on the sides and one at the front of his throat.

The silver haired man, Suga, looked up to Kuroo and smiled. “Hey, Kuroo, is this the new one?” he asked, slowly turning himself around so he could be right side up. He stood on the platform, smiling down at Kuroo and Tsukishima. He had a kind, gentle voice.

Now that he was facing them, Tsukishima could easily see the makeup on his face. His lips were heavily glossed, pink shining in the lights. Thick eyelashes were glued to his upper eyelids, brushing the skin of his cheeks whenever he blinked. Subtle iridescent glitter was sprinkled over his cheekbones, nose, browbones, and lightly on his upper lip, flashing with his movement. Darker, silver glitter was under his eyes in the same pattern as it had been the last time Tsukishima had seen him, running down his cheeks, tapering off close to the edges of his lips. There was a light sheen of sweat over his body, but it only made him look more ethereal than he already did.

“Yeah,” Kuroo said, knocking his shoulder against the blond’s. “Tsukki, this is Suga. He’s one of our best seductresses, if you can call it that. He’s very good at what he does. I’ve never met anyone he wasn’t able to seduce, when it came to work.”

Suga extended his hand, and Tsukishima reluctantly shook it. “Tsukishima Kei,” he introduced.

“Sugawara Koushi,” the man smiled kindly. For as scantily clad as he was, he seemed polite and decently behaved. “You were at Kuroo’s last party, right?”

“Yeah,” Tsukishima responded.

“Well,” Sugawara smiled, “welcome to the Yakuza.”

“Thank you.”

His eyes scanned the blond, trying to figure him out. Luckily, Tsukishima had his personality pretty well reserved. He didn’t like feeling like everyone could read him all the time. Plus, easily read people tended to piss him off. “I hope Kuroo’s giving you a good time,” he said, light brown eyes flickering between the two men.

Tsukishima looked at Kuroo, a slow smirk forming on his face. “He does fine.”

Kuroo snorted loudly. “Oh, Tsukki. I think I do a bit better than just ‘fine.’”

Sugawara laughed behind a hand. “This sounds like a personal matter to me.”

Tsukishima scowled. Kuroo just laughed loudly.

Kuroo slung an arm over Tsukishima’s shoulders, earning a scowl. “We’d better get going,” he grinned. “I still have to show this one around and introduce him to everyone.” He started walking away from the silver haired man, throwing a grin back in his direction. “Bye, Suga.”

“Bye, Kuroo!” the other waved, giving off that refreshing smile of his. “It was nice to meet you, Tsukishima!”

The blond nodded, letting Kuroo steer him away, through the crowd. Unlike Kuroo’s party, where there had been one main cluster of people, this place was completely packed. People always move out of Kuroo’s way, but even then, it was still hard to walk through the sweaty bodies.

The air around them was damp and cool, the smells of alcohol and weed enveloping everyone. The music was pounding so loud that the bass was shaking the walls. It was dark except for the coloured lights strategically placed around the room, creating tall shadows of the mass of bodies against the walls. A few people made out around the edges of the rooms, but no one really paid them any attention. They were either too busy dancing, or too intoxicated to care.

As soon as Tsukishima saw Terushima he wanted to turn around and walk the other direction, as far as his legs could take him. The man was grinding against Akaashi and Bokuto, as the other two made out over his shoulder. Bokuto was against his back, a hand on Terushima’s hip, the other pressed to Akaashi’s lower back. Akaashi’s front side was against Terushima’s, his hand pressed sweetly to Bokuto’s cheek as they kissed. Terushima seemed to be enjoying himself as much as they were, a content expression on his face.

“Hey, kids,” Kuroo grinned, voice low and deep, sending chills up Tsukishima’s spine. Something about Kuroo’s voice completely mesmerized Tsukishima. It rumbled in his chest, like thunder, and consumed him like a rainstorm.

The three of them stopped what they were doing to look where Kuroo’s voice had come from.

“Kuroo!” Bokuto yelled excitedly, hopping over to where he and Tsukishima were standing, away from his boyfriend and Terushima. He gave Kuroo a big hug, squeezing and shaking him until Kuroo was wheezing.

Bokuto was dressed in a silky gold track suit, black stripes running down the sides of the jacket, and the pant legs. The silky fabric was reflecting the colours of the lights, blue and purple shifting along the gold. The jacket was zipped up about halfway, showing the tight white shirt he had underneath, easily displaying his huge pectoral muscles. He wore a black visor on his forehead, shading his wide, amber eyes. On his feet were black, laceless dress shoes, that somehow worked with the rest of the outfit.

“Hello, Kuroo and Tsukishima,” Akaashi nodded to them, now stepped away from Terushima. Akaashi was wearing all black, as usual. He wore a deep cut V-neck shirt, tucked into his pants, under a black blazer with high, angular shoulders. There was a thick ribbon around his neck. His pants were tight, and looked like leather, showing every curve of his legs, pulled tight around his thin waist. His shoes were the same plain black as the rest of his body, subtle heels adding a few centimeters to his height, the material so shiny that they were practically reflecting the people standing around him.

“I see you’ve brought your bitch with you again,” Terushima grinned, elbowing Kuroo hard in the ribs. Terushima was wearing a red shirt cut so low it nearly showed off his bellybutton. The short sleeves of the shirt showed his toned biceps, the neckline showing off his abdomen. His black jeans were ripped at the knees, even tighter than Kuroo’s pants were. There was a light sheen of sweat over his body, his hair wet with it. When he talked, Tsukishima could see the silver ball of his tongue ring flashing in the lights.

Tsukishima’s expression immediately turned into a deep scowl. He should have turned around when he’d thought about it.

“Watch your elbow,” Kuroo said, rubbing at his ribs, hitting Terushima with his free hand.

Tsukishima watched the display and smirked slowly. “You have it all wrong,” he said, eyes locking on to the faux blond, “I brought him with me.” He narrowed his eyes.

When Terushima understood what he had implied, he laughed obnoxiously, throwing his head back. “Oh my god!” he laughed, slapping Kuroo on the back. “I had no idea you were the bitch in this relationship. Good for you, man.” He burst out laughing again, wiping tears from his eyes.

Kuroo chuckled. “He’s one of us now, Yuuji.”

Terushima’s grin directed itself toward Tsukishima. “I know. He’d better do a good job.” His eyes were glinting in the light, at Tsukishima, as a warning and a challenge. Tsukishima’s first impression of Terushima was correct—he was far sleazier than Kuroo could ever be. Even when Kuroo wore those god awful fur coats.

Kuroo reached a hand up to ruffle Tsukishima’s hair, earning a glare. “I’m sure he’ll do just fine with us,” he said.

Tsukishima raised his eyebrows. “I don’t plan on doing anything less than proficient.”

Terushima laughed loudly, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright,” he said. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Dude, I’m so glad you’re with us now!” Bokuto bounced, grinning at Tsukishima. He threw an arm over Akaashi’s shoulder, who instantly leaned into the touch.

“Yes, welcome,” Akaashi said. His dark hair was perfectly framing his face, loose curls swirling onto his cheeks and around his forehead. When he blinked, his eyelashes looked longer and thicker than they usually did.

“Thanks.”

Bokuto bounced away from Akaashi again, earning a displeased expression. “Have you had anything to drink yet?” he asked Kuroo and Tsukishima excitedly. His light eyebrows were raised, widening his gold eyes even more.

Kuroo grinned at his best friend. “Not yet. Let’s go get some, eh, Tsukki?” The darker haired man smiled at him, white teeth and pointed canines showing even in the dim lighting.

“Sure,” the blond shrugged, stepping next to Kuroo as he crossed the room straight to the bar. Bokuto and Akaashi walked behind them, Terushima dashing off to grind on someone else. When they got there, Tsukishima saw that the short man who spoke Russian was the bartender. He wore a regular black and white suit again, the same bandages around his thin hands. His tie was loosened ever so slightly, the very top button of his white shirt undone to make him appear more casual. He looked tired, dark circles under his brown eyes.

“Hello, Kuroo,” he said, nodding in the darker haired man’s direction. “Welcome to the Yakuza, Tsukishima.” When he looked at Tsukishima, there was something piercing about his light brown eyes. Despite looking exhausted, he looked strong, both mentally and physically.

“Hey, Yaku,” Kuroo greeted. “Let’s just do four amaretto sours for now. Is that good with you, Tsukki?”

“That’s fine.”

“Four amaretto sours coming up,” the man named Yaku said, turning away from the counter, to the shelves of drinks behind him. He seemed like the type of person who was all business, without any distractions. Tsukishima supposed that with a group as wild as this one, that was exactly the type of person they needed. Everyone else seemed so focused on having fun.

“Tsukki, this is Yaku Morisuke,” Kuroo said, gesturing towards the shorter man with a nod. “He specializes in martial arts, such as Krav Maga, Karate, Kendo, and Aikido. He’s extremely competent and proficient. We’re lucky to have him on our side.” Tsukishina briefly wondered if there was any other side, when it came to the Yakuza, before a tall drink was placed in front of him. The other drinks were handed to Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi, who immediately took a sip of the diluted brown liquid.

“I’m glad you think that highly of me, Kuroo.” Instead of talking to Kuroo like they were friends, like everyone else did, he talked to him like a boss. His tone was respectful, and he didn’t seem like he feared Kuroo. Some of the people Tsukishima had seen talk to Kuroo seemed completely terrified by the bedhead ridden man. Tsukishima didn’t think he was that intimidating, but he was also sleeping with him.

“Yaku!” a voice yelled over the music, causing the shorter man to slump his shoulders and roll his eyes.

The man with white hair that had been talking to Yaku in Russian at Kuroo’s party leapt over to Yaku excitedly. “Yaku!” he repeated. The man was, in fact, taller than Tsukishima, and five times as energetic. He wore a vest, showing off his lanky, pale arms. The vest was leopard print fur, in an assortment of garish reds, oranges, and yellows. It was unzipped most of the way, showing his bony chest. He wore tight shorts on his frighteningly ling legs, cutting off above the knee. Nothing about his outfit made sense, and not in the way Bokuto’s didn’t. Bokuto at least looked semi thought out. This man just looked like he threw together whatever he found in the garbage, in an attempt to look stylish. It wasn’t working.

“What do you want, Lev?” Yaku sighed.

“Did you hear? The new member is here tonight!” he yelled, apparently oblivious of the blond standing next to him. His head whipped around, looking for the man less than three feet away from him. Every word he said was yelled. Tsukishima realized that this man was essentially the personified version of a migraine. “Hi, Kuroo!”

“Lev,” Yaku said sternly, getting the man’s attention.

“Oh, you look so cute tonight, Yaku!” Lev grinned. Tsukishima pinched the bridge of his nose.

“ _Lev_.” Despite his tone, Tsukishima could see the light pink tinting Yaku’s cheeks and ears. “He’s literally right fucking _there_.” He pointed at Tsukishima, frowning at Lev.

The white-haired man’s head whipped to the side so fast it could’ve flown off of his shoulders. His large, cat-like eyes locked onto Tsukishima. Tsukishima was certain he had a nasty expression on his face. “Oh! You’re Tsukki?” he asked, buzzing with energy.

The blond frowned, eyes glaring meanly at the taller man. “Tsukishima.”

Lev’s face widened into a huge grin. “Tsukki, Tsukki, Tsukki!” he sang, hopping on the balls of his feet every time he said the nickname.

Tsukishima had never been so utterly disgusted in his life.

Kuroo cackled loudly. “Tsukki, this is Haiba Lev. He’s great at distracting people, if you hadn’t picked up on that. He’s also one of my top gunmen.”

Tsukishima nodded silently in response, not wanting his words to trigger anything the taller man had to say.

Lev watched Tsukishima for another moment, before quickly turning back to Yaku. “Yaku!” he yelled. “Can I have a kiss?”

There was no way in hell Yaku, man of professionalism and responsibility, was dating this tall headache of a man. Bokuto and Akaashi were opposites enough as it was. These two people seemed like polar opposites, in every possible way. Tsukishima squinted at Yaku, awaiting his response in hopes of understanding. Nothing that went on in the Yakuza made sense to Tsukishima, and now he was a part of it.

Yaku scowled, the pink of his small face darkening. “Not right now, idiot.” He turned around, missing the pout Lev gave him.

Kuroo put his hand on Tsukishima’s lower back. “Thanks for the drinks, Yaku. We’ll catch you two kids later.” He grinned at Lev before turning around. “What’d you think of Lev?” he chuckled, walking through the dance floor, sweaty bodies brushing up against the two of them. The crowd was moving to the music—grinding, bouncing, and swaying, each of their outfits flashier and more ridiculous than the last. Kuroo really did have a thing for people who didn’t fit into societies ideal type of person. Hence why misanthropic Tsukishima was here. He never did fit in with other people his age.

Tsukishima scowled. “He’s even worse that Terushima,” he said. At least Terushima had a sort of suaveness about him. Lev was just an overly hyper, Russian giant. Tsukishima was sure he wouldn’t last long with both of them in close quarters. He’d rip his hair out before getting five minutes in.

Kuroo’s laugh rumbled deep in his chest, practically shaking the cool air around Tsukishima. “Is there anyone here that doesn’t piss you off?”

Tsukishima looked around the room, thinking. “Akaashi,” he said, eyes locking onto the pale man, who was currently making out with Bokuto at the bar, right next to a bouncing Lev. “Suga is decent.” Mostly, the people who kept to themselves and left Tsukishima alone were his favourites. Rather, the least excruciatingly annoying. Tsukishima looked at Kuroo down the bridge of his nose. “You could be worse.”

Kuroo grinned his signature grin, half-lidded eyes practically tearing the blond apart. “I’m flattered.”

“Shut up,” Tsukishima sneered.

The darker haired man bumped his shoulder against Tsukishima’s. He could practically feel the warmth radiating off of Kuroo’s olive skin, even through that burgundy alligator jacket of his. His smile was illuminated by bright pinks and blues. “You’re really cute, Tsukki.”

The taller man frowned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Shut up.” There was a noticeable lack of bite to his words.

“Really, really cute, Tsukki.”

The blond narrowed his eyes, tilting his head up to look down at Kuroo even more than he already did. Kuroo was just giving him a wide smile, gazing at the blond with dark eyes. His hair was a mess, as usual, jutting up in impossible directions, bangs covering his right eye. The blond smirked. “You could be worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave a comment telling me how you feel, asking questions, or giving constructive criticism! Thank you for reading, more to come soon!


	4. Ornate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima and Kuroo unbashedly flirt at the party ft. Kyoutani and Yahaba.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, 'tis I, the worst fanfic author on earth. 
> 
> I am so sorry it's taken me so long to update, and I don't even have much to make up for it. This is just a fun chapter to keep you guys semi satisfied while I try to bang out some better, longer chapters.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy what little I'm giving you, and I will try to update as soon as possible!

If Kuroo didn’t think he was fucked before, he certainly did now. He was totally and completely fucked over a tall, bitter blond named Tsukishima Kei. That was certain. He was learning things about Tsukki—more than he had before, when they were just hanging out or having sex. Kuroo was learning what type of people Tsukishima respected and tolerated, such as Sugawara and Yaku, and what types of people he’d rather die than interact with. Like Lev and Terushima. It was a wonder he could stand being around Bokuto, but Kuroo was sure Akaashi had a lot to do with that.

Kuroo had already guessed that Tsukishima liked fruity drinks, but tonight confirmed that. It was an interesting discovery. For someone who acted as bitter and reserved as Tsukishima, he sure liked sweet fucking drinks. Kuroo mostly knew girls who liked those types of drinks, not pessimistic, 193 centimeter men. It was cute.

Of course, Tsukishima could probably kill someone, and Kuroo would still think it was cute.

Kuroo was in deep.

“I could be worse, huh?” Kuroo asked, grinning at the blonde’s words.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Hardly.”

Kuroo laughed loudly. “Oh, please.” He shook his head. “How could I be worse?” The darker haired man already knew the answer to his question.

“You could be Lev.” Tsukishima wrinkled his perfect nose and glared towards where Lev was. Even when he was glaring, he was as beautiful as ever. It was something about the dichotomy of his perfect, angelic features, and his foul expressions, that really intrigued Kuroo. He didn’t know it was possible for someone so pristine to make such unpleasant expressions. Even when they were having sex, and Tsukki’s features were warped with arousal or pleasure, it was interesting to Kuroo. It made him want to see every expression Tsukishima could make, and then discover some of his own.

“I knew you wouldn’t like him.” Kuroo was smiling at the blond, a hand resting on the blond’s high hip. Seriously, his legs went on for _ever_.

“He’s too much.”

Kuroo opened his mouth to say something else, when someone bumped into him from behind. His eyebrows immediately raised, ready to challenge whoever decided to recklessly throw themselves into the leader of a Yakuza subgang. He turned around slowly, his hand sliding off of Tsukishima’s hip. His eyes looked down at the other person, piercing and daring.

“’Scuse me,” a gruff voice said, unapologetically.

#

As soon as the other man had bumped into Kuroo, there was an obvious shift in Kuroo’s eyes, in his entire demeanor. He was no longer the grinning man who had been flirting with Tsukishima all night, he was the Yakuza. He was a looming presence, standing over the other man, in all his glory. The air seemed to still itself around him, the temperature dropping because of that icy glare.

Tsukishima was fairly certain that this is what a god would be like.

The grin was back just as quickly as it had left. “Oh, Kyoutani,” Kuroo said, shifting back on one foot, a hand casually slipping into his pocket. He was back to his usual, friendly self in an instant. Tsukishima was going to have to tell Kuroo to use that chilling demeanor more often, when they were in bed.

The man named Kyoutani nodded a response. He was a lot shorter than Tsukishima and Kuroo, but he was twice as muscular. Tsukishima remembered him from Kuroo’s last party, as the bouncer. He had the same mean eyes, dark eyeliner smudged onto his lower eyelids, nonexistent eyebrows furrowed into a deep scowl.

“Tsukki, this is Kyoutani Kentarou,” Kuroo introduced, eyes watching the blond’s face. “He’s one of our hand-to-hand combat guys, like Bokuto.”

Kyoutani grunted in response.

Like Bokuto, he had ridiculous hair, two black streaks racing down the sides of his blond head, and he was wearing a tracksuit, black instead of that ridiculous gold. It was zipped up all the way, collar extended onto his thick neck. Besides the hair and the outfit, Tsukishima didn’t think he could get any physically less like Bokuto, even if he had really tried.

While Bokuto was all goofy grins and excitable bounces, this man was steady, standing with his legs shoulder width apart, as if he were to get attacked at any given moment. His arms were crossed, thick biceps apparent, even through the tracksuit. His eyes were a dull gold, showing no life or emotion. When he opened his mouth, Tsukishima could see a grill on each set of teeth, the bottom ones the same gold, pointed canine ones he was wearing last time, the top set a silver, small diamonds inlaid in every individual tooth, canines pointed as well. He looked like he was going to bite someone’s head off, and with all that metal, Tsukishima was sure it’d be way worse for whoever he was biting, than for him.

A thin arm snaked around Kyoutani’s thick one, wrapping itself around the shorter man, as if it had done that hundreds of times before. Tsukishima shifted his gaze up to see Yahaba, wearing a simple white button-up and black slacks. He seemed taller than he had before, so Tsukishima looked down to his feet, so see shiny, silver high heels that nearly matched Kyoutani’s top grill perfectly. The heels made him a lot taller than the other man, but neither of them seemed fazed by the fact. Kyoutani just moved an arm to pull Yahaba closer to him by the waist. The taller man seemed incredibly pleased by this small gesture of affection.

“Hey again,” Yahaba smiled at Tsukishima and Kuroo. “Are you two enjoying my place?” He was wearing even more makeup than he had been last time, but it wasn’t overly glittery, like Sugawara’s was. His lips were a dark red, showing off his straight white teeth when he smiled, thick eyeliner framing his round eyes, tones of copper and bronze swept on his eyelids. Tsukishima could see that his eyebrows had been filled in with a darker colour, cheeks dusted with a rosy gold colour. He and Kyoutani really were a sight to see.

Kuroo was the first to speak. “Yeah, it’s great! Thanks for letting us throw this here.”

“Of course,” Yahaba said. “Any time, really. You know I like throwing parties here, and I’m not the one who has to clean it up afterwards. It’s a win-win for me.” He shrugged. While he talked, Kyoutani’s eyes never left him, devouring him from head to toe. Tsukishima supposed he had figured out who Kyoutani was going to bite. “Plus, it’s bigger than your place, so we can always invite whoever you want. As long as it’s not Daishou.”

Kuroo laughed. “Trust me, I wouldn’t let that snake ten feet within this place.”

Tsukishima was watching Kyoutani watch Yahaba. The shorter man’s eyes seemed glued to his painted face, especially lingering around his dark lips. “Oh yeah,” Yahaba hummed, “I never asked how that went. Was he worse than usual?” Kyoutani was holding Yahaba so close he looked like he was going to snap the taller man in two.

“Not really,” Kuroo shrugged, “he was a whiny brat, but that’s expected. “Daichi was looking great, as always.” Tsukishima’s eyes snapped to Kuroo’s face, narrowing. Kuroo had never mentioned this ‘Daichi’ person before.

Yahaba’s laugh sounded nervous as his eyes locked onto Tsukishima’s face. The blond immediately changed his expression into blatant indifference, turning his attention away from the darker haired man at his side. “Of course he did,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Well, I’m glad he wasn’t completely freaking out.”

“Me too, but I wasn’t happy about giving him his money back. He doesn’t deserve it.” Kuroo shifted his weight onto the other foot, away from Tsukishima. The blond was tempted to lean that direction with him, just to be closer to the darker haired man. Of course, he’d be insane if he actually did, so he restrained himself, and decided to get close to Kuroo after the party. Even though they’d definitely gone a round or two before getting ready for the party.

Yahaba shook his head. “Not at all.” Kyoutani leaned over to Yahaba, lips against his ear, a hand covering where they met, so no one could see what he was saying. Yahaba’s face heated up, pink dusting over his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, even through the makeup he was wearing. Kyoutani broke away, turning and walking through the crowd, disappearing in the distance.

Yahaba didn’t say anything, just stood there, looking stunned at whatever his boyfriend had said to him. Kuroo chucked, low and rumbling in his chest, grinning at the other man, eyes narrowed and glinting. Unlike Kyoutani’s gold eyes, Kuroo’s dark gold was filled with light and life.

“What can I say,” Yahaba shrugged, a pleased grin wide on his face. “He likes me in heels.” He winked, turning to walk away from Kuroo and Tsukishima.

Tsukishima wrinkled his nose, earning a loud laugh from the man at his side. “You should wear heels some time, Tsukki,” he said with a predatory grin, practically baring his teeth at the blond.

“Absolutely not.”

Kuroo whined teasingly. “Aw, why not? Just thinking about your legs and heels is enough to get me so hard I might pass out.”

Tsukishima scowled. “You’re gross, Kuroo.”

Kuroo wrapped an arm around Tsukishima’s waist and pulled him closer, like Kyoutani had done to Yahaba. His lips were _far_ too close to Tsukishima’s ear for the blond to be comfortable, and not aroused. “You like it.” Kuroo’s voice was low, a bit gravelly, reverberating through every bone in Tsukishima’s body, down each vertebrae, giving him chills over his skin. Tsukishima hated how much he enjoyed the power Kuroo’s voice had over him.

Tsukishima shoved Kuroo in the stomach lightly, not hard enough to move him away from the blond. He needed to get Kuroo off of him before he had the urge to follow Kyoutani and Yahaba upstairs, where they had more privacy. Tsukishima didn’t think it’d be too difficult to get Kuroo out of that alligator skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Officially the worst chapter in this thing, hahaha. Well, along with this chapter, I'm doing a side fic of Kyoutani and Yahaba, after they go upstairs, so, that should be fun!
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment, kudos, a question, or really just anything telling me how you feel about this fic so far.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Torrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm is coming for Kuroo's side of the Yakuza. This is only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey, I finally updated. It's still a short chapter, but it's quite action packed.
> 
> Here we go! Enjoy!

Kuroo and Tsukishima were lying in the darker haired man’s bed, making out slowly. It had been weeks since the party, leaving Tsukishima with only a few members of the Yakuza to meet before he officially knew everybody. They’d left the party relatively early, instead going back to Kuroo’s place to get drunk. Which they did very successfully. Tsukishima, unsurprisingly, wasn’t one for big crowds for extended periods of time, which was fine by Kuroo. He liked crowds, and he liked partying with a bunch of gorgeous, interesting people, but there was nothing like getting shitfaced and sloppily making out with the prettiest blond on earth, until both of their heads were spinning from the lack of oxygen.

Tsukishima was laying comfortably against Kuroo’s pillow, practically enveloped by the softness. He had his glasses off, only contributing to his soft appearance. His arms were loosely wrapped around Kuroo’s neck, kissing his lips. Kuroo was halfway on top of the blond, broad chest against the other’s narrow one. Tsukishima’s lips were hot and wet, sliding perfectly against his.

They had been about to go to bed, since both of them had class the next day, but the blond’s lips had been looking especially delectable and pink, so Kuroo couldn’t hold himself back when he pressed his own lips against the other’s.

Kuroo gave an appreciative hum when Tsukishima bit his lower lip, tugging at it before licking the abused skin. The darker haired man positioned himself so that he was on top of Tsukishima more, lips pressing together more than they already had been. Hands carded through his messy black hair, fingers tightening ever so slightly, pulling him impossibly closer.

Kuroo could not believe how utterly _head over heels_ he was for this beautiful string-bean of an asshole. “Move in with me,” he blurted against the younger man’s lips. He then, tried to distract Tsukishima by giving a nervous laugh, and squeezing his eyes shut at how stupid he was when he was around the blond.

“I live in the dorms on campus,” Tsukishima blinked.

Kuroo sat up on his elbows so he could get a better look at Tsukishima. “I know, but you’re hardly ever there anyway. You might as well move in so we don’t have to keep going back to your place just to get clothes.”

“I still have to pay off my dorm, I can’t just move out now.” He didn’t seem irritated by Kuroo’s suggestion, he was just stating the cons.

“I’ll pay it off for you.” Quite honestly, Kuroo had more than enough money to pay off Tsukishima’s dorm. It wouldn’t even make a dent in his finances. It may have been too soon, he’d only known Tsukishima for, what, like a month and a half? Nothing serious had happened between them or between the Yakuza, so Kuroo still wasn’t quite sure what the blond was capable of. But Tsukki was already practically living with him, so what could go wrong?

“That’s not what I was—”

“I know,” Kuroo said quickly. “But I want to.”

“I don’t know, Kuroo,” the younger man sighed. “We’re not even together, and I don’t want you to just pay off my debt like that.” He reached over to grab his glasses, sliding them back on. Kudos to Kuroo for officially killing the mood.

“ _I_ want to pay it off for you, though.” He was completely avoiding the first part of Tsukishima’s sentence. “And it’s not like you’re not paying me back in turn, you technically work for me, as part of the Yakuza.” Kuroo wriggled his eyebrows, giving the blond a particularly sleazy grin. “Plus, you can always pay me off in sex.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching in the threat of a smile. “That’s prostitution, Kuroo.”

“Your words.”

“You’re awful.”

“I know. But seriously, we always have class at the same time, so showing up won’t be a problem. You can even have the guest bedroom as your own if you don’t always feel like sleeping with me. I don’t see why you wouldn’t, but,” he teased, “who knows? And that’s where you can keep you stuff and whatever. It also has a bathroom so we wouldn’t have to share.” It’s not like Kuroo had thought this over. Of course not. That’d be ridiculous of him. That’d make him seem crazy. “No more gross roommates.”

Tsukishima sighed, tilting the corner of his mouth down in thought. “You got me there. But you and Bokuto have to keep it down when I’m studying. I still need to pass, regardless of whether I’m living with the head of the Yakuza.”

Kuroo smiled brightly. “Of course, of course. Honestly, you can just shoot Bokuto if he’s too loud. I’m sure he’d live through it.”

“That completely defeats the purpose of shooting Bokuto.”

Kuroo laughed loudly. “Tsukki, you’re basically the devil, has anyone ever told you that?”

Tsukishima considered this, nodding. “Several times.”

#

It was about four in the morning when Kuroo’s phone started buzzing. It was barely dawn, the dim light of the sky peeking through the blinds. Tsukishima was sleeping peacefully next to him, so Kuroo made sure to get off of the bed as gently and quietly as possible. He looked like an angel, bathed in soft colours, glasses and scowl absent from his face. Kuroo hardly ever got to see the blond without a scowl. He could have gazed at him forever. He picked up his phone and went out to sit one of the ottomans sitting in his living room. The phone call was from a private number, but Kuroo answered it anyway.

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” he said in a clipped tone. His voice was raspy with sleep, but he did his best to sound like himself.

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” the voice repeated in a hum. “Do you remember the meeting we had a few weeks ago?” The voice was smooth, slippery almost, like a snake shifting it’s way through your fingers before you could fully grasp at it.

Kuroo wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Daishou,” he greeted. “How could I forget the five-minute meeting you hyped up for a week?”

“Do you remember what I said I’d do if something like that happened again?”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, hoping Daishou would be able to sense it on the other end. “Well, it’s a good thing I haven’t even been in your neighborhood since last time, isn’t it?”

“Bullshit,” Daishou hissed. “Someone just happened to do the same exact thing you did, in the same way you did? Likely story, _Kuroo_.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid, Suguru. I haven’t even so much as thought of you in the past few weeks.”

When he spoke, his voice was trembling with anger, tone barely controlled. “I told you what would happen.” And he hung up.

Kuroo didn’t process what he meant until the scent of smoke filled his nostrils. He shot up out of his seat, running towards his room where Tsukishima was still sleeping peacefully.

“Tsukki, babe, get up now,” Kuroo said, shaking the blond awake. He sat up, grabbed his glasses, looking at the darker haired man confusedly. “Daishou set my fucking penthouse on fire. We have to go.”

“What the fuck,” Tsukishima sighed, standing up and slipping his shoes on. Kuroo ran across his penthouse to grab a few suitcases full of money, handing Tsukki any of his belongings.

He couldn’t believe Daishou would set his fucking house on fire. With Tsukishima in it. Kuroo was fine if all his belongings got destroyed, and his penthouse got burnt to the fucking ground. That was all stuff he could replace. Sure, it’d be shitty, but it was possible. But if Tsukishima got hurt… Kuroo was afraid he’d lose his fucking mind. If Tsukishima even got anywhere close to being harmed in any way, shape, or form, Kuroo would hunt Daishou and his stupid men down, and strangle them all with his bare fucking hands. He wasn’t afraid to kill someone for Tsukishima. He’d kill anyone.

Flames were up to his waist now, in one of his bathrooms, the kitchen, and the window side of his living room, covering everything in sight in a red and orange, vicious glow. They were crackling their way up the white walls, pressing themselves in every corner of Kuroo’s house. _Fuck_ Daishou, honestly. Smoke was filling the air, choking he and the blond, and making it hard to see where they were going. He could see his walls were scorched a black, the furniture being reduced to ash and flame. One of his loveseats was completely enveloped in the angry red, fabric blackening and curling in on itself. It was slowly crawling over the carpet, trying to wrap around Kuroo and suffocate him.

“Downstairs, babe,” Kuroo said, urging the blond out his front door, and down the stairs. They ran down, smoke following them until they reached outside. Tsukishima was doubled over coughing, a handful of his belongings gripped in his thin hands. Kuroo dropped the suitcases where they were standing, listening to the sounds of sirens growing nearer with every second. He was looking up at the top floor, where his penthouse was. Fire was blazing out of the windows, completely filling the space that used to be Kuroo’s home.

And almost Tsukishima’s.

Fucking hell. Of course this had to happen right when he invited Tsukishima to live with him. Now what the fuck were they supposed to do? Where were they supposed to go? Tsukishima could go back to his dorm like he had before Kuroo had met him, but what else? That life he was talking about, the one where Tsukki lived in the guest room and had his own space, and everything was all fine and fucking dandy, didn’t exist anymore. All he wanted to do was live with a ridiculously cute blond, and be able to watch him complain about people and eat his dinner every night. That’s _all _Kuroo had wanted.__

__Now, he was homeless._ _

__Tsukishima was still coughing. Kuroo rubbed a circle into his back, hoping the blond couldn’t sense how high-strung he was. “Tsukki, you okay?” Kuroo felt like he was going to throw up from the anger. He didn’t want to show how utterly weak he was feeling in front of the other man._ _

__The blond nodded, choking out his words. “I’ll be fine.”_ _

__Kuroo grabbed his phone out of his pocket and dialed Bokuto’s number. His throat burned from the smoke, but he hoped he’d be able to pull it together long enough to tell his best friend what had happened._ _

__“What’s up?” Bokuto asked immediately._ _

__Kuroo had to clear his throat before speaking. “Daishou lit my fucking penthouse on fire because someone trashed his place. Tsukishima is with me.”_ _

__There was the start of a car engine on the other end. “We’re on the way.”_ _

__Kuroo hung up, looking at Tsukishima, who was now standing. He couldn’t tell what the blond was thinking based off of his expression, so he figured he wasn’t too traumatized. He had bedhead, blond curling up in multiple directions. He looked tired, but very alert and awake. He laced his fingers through Tsukishima’s, turning his gaze to the fire engulfing the top of the building. He could feel Tsukishima’s gaze locked onto his face, studying him. Kuroo could hear the crackle, and the splintering inside of his apartment. The flames were pressed against the two walls made of glass, desperately trying to break out. Smoke was wafting into the air around the building, polluting the clear air._ _

__Firetrucks halted to a stop, workers jumping out of their vehicles to put a damper on the fire consuming Kuroo’s home. Everything felt like a dream to Kuroo. His vision was blurred, except for where his eyes were locked directly onto the bright flames. He felt lightheaded from all the smoke. He was watching his house deconstruct right in front of his eyes._ _

__At least the early morning air was cool._ _

__“Well, Tsukki. It can only get worse from here.”_ _

__And fuck, was he right about that._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a kudos, comment, question, or anything, really, telling me how you feel about this new development!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. Frigid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The darker haired man managed a small smile. “Yeah, you’re fucking crazy,” he said, chuckling._
> 
> _Tsukishima let a small smirk turn the corners of his mouth up. “Probably.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm finally back with a new chapter. It's a bit short, but the actual plot starts in the next chapter, so please enjoy this before everything gets crazy! Thank you!

They were sitting at Bokuto and Akaashi’s penthouse in silence. Tsukishima was drinking bottled water. His throat burned from the smoke. Kuroo hadn’t said a word since they’d arrived. Bokuto and Akaashi were trying to give them their space by standing silently in their kitchen, watching the other two in case they needed something. Tsukishima could feel his skin covered in the grime of the smoke, sprinkled with ash.

Kuroo didn’t look much better. In fact, he probably looked worse. Tsukishima, at least, didn’t look traumatized. Kuroo was sitting on the opposite couch from Tsukishima, elbows on his knees, and head in his hands. His black hair was poking out from between his fingers, the tan skin dusted with the grey from the fire. His mouth was drawn into a tight line, dark gold eyes wide. They were just staring down at the floor, not moving.

Tsukishima tried to blink the smoke out of his eyes. “Kuroo.”

His head snapped up towards the blond, eyes locking onto the blond, but not focusing on him at all. “What?”

“Are you going to be alright?”

His hands were shaking when he spoke. He shook his head, just enough for the blond to notice. “You know, Tsukki.” He took a deep breath, standing up. “I’m not really sure. Uh, I’m not sure we should keep seeing each other. I don’t want to keep putting you in danger and it can only get worse from here—”

“Shut up,” Tsukishima sighed, standing up to meet the darker haired man. Kuroo’s eyes were wide. “I don’t want to stop seeing you. Shouldn’t we actually start dating, instead?” It was a long time coming, quite honestly. He and Kuroo already practically lived together, what more could an official relationship change?

Kuroo grabbed Tsukishima by the shoulders, shaking him. He was looking right into his eyes, something wild in the dark honey colour. “Tsukishima, I don’t want to hurt you.” Tsukishima had never seen him so serious before.

He frowned. “Then don’t.”

Kuroo shook his head, looking up at the ceiling. “You don’t _understand_. This isn’t fun or parties anymore, Tsukishima. Dangerous people are after us, and I don’t want you to get in the crossfire.” His lips were turned down in a worried frown.

“I don’t care about that, Kuroo. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Maybe you should be.” Kuroo’s voice was soft, each word straining on his throat. A ringing silence hung in the air for a moment. Tsukishima had never seen or heard Kuroo like this. “I really don’t want to hurt you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you.” His hands were clenched into fists, tendons shifting under the skin. He was looking at Tsukishima with wide eyes, his face pale with emotion.

“Stop blaming yourself for everything. I obviously played some part in this.” The taller man rolled his eyes. “Do you honestly think I started sleeping with a Yakuza leader without knowing what I was getting myself into?”

“Tsukki,” Kuroo nearly whimpered, dropping back onto the couch and putting his head back into his hands. “Daishou is really dangerous. This is just the beginning of it—trust me. I don’t want to find out what he’d do if he found out about you.”

Tsukishima sat next to him, leaning forward on the cushion so he could get a better look at the darker haired man. “I’ll be fine.”

“Tsukishima?”

“Yes?” he replied.

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

“What?” Tsukishima asked, blinking at the other man. “No,” he assured, “not at all.”

Kuroo looked down at his hands with wide eyes. He shook his head quickly, fingers trembling. “I’ve _killed_ people, Tsukishima. More people than I could ever even imagine counting. It’s what we do. And you know what? I _like_ it. A lot.”

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes at Kuroo. “Do you want me to think you are?”

“I _like_ killing people, Tsukishima. I’m _comforted_ by warm blood and soulless eyes. That isn’t normal.” Kuroo sighed loudly. “Don’t you understand? I’m a fucking _abomination_.”

“You’re not. Stop talking like that. Shit happens.” Tsukishima crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to figure out what Kuroo was trying to get at.

When Kuroo spoke, his voice was almost too soft to hear. “My head is a very dark place. I can’t just _be_ good. All I do is break things, and one day, it might be you. I can’t let that happen to you. You don’t deserve it.”

“It’s fine,” Tsukishima hurried. “You’re alright. It’s who you are, I don’t mind it.”

“Why the fuck not? Why the fuck aren’t you afraid? You could have gotten _killed_ tonight because of me! What’s keeping you here? Is it something I don’t know about? Is it my money?”

Tsukishima stood up without so much as thinking about it. “Is that what you want to hear, Kuroo? Do you want me to think you’re some sort of monster? Do you want me to leave so you can be in peace?”

Kuroo stood up, looking at Tsukishima with glossy eyes. Tears rolled down his cheeks, cutting through the dirt and ash from the fire. “I don’t _want_ you to, but it might be for the best.”

Tsukishima glared at him. “I already told you, I don’t want to stop seeing you.”

Kuroo stepped closer, running a rough thumb over Tsukishima’s cheek. “I don’t want to, either.”

“Why do it, then? I’m fine, Kuroo. I’ll _be_ fine. It’s stupid to stop seeing each other if neither of us want to.”

“What if something happens to you?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Then we’ll find a way around it,” he said, simply. Kuroo was overthinking everything, and assuming the worst-case scenario. Tsukishima understood that he was shaken up from the fire. That was completely justified and understandable. But Tsukishima could take care of himself. He’d be just fine, like he’d said what felt like a thousand times. And if he couldn’t take care of himself, there were other people who could. There was no way he was as dangerous as even half of these people, just because he’d only been with the Yakuza for a very short amount of time. But he wasn’t incompetent. He could take care of himself.

Kuroo sighed, slumping back onto the couch. “You don’t really think this is going to work out, do you?” he asked, rubbing his palms over his face.

Tsukishima sat next to him. “I think it’ll be fine, either way.”

“You must be crazy if you want to stay with me after all this,” Kuroo said, tawny eyes wavering over Tsukishima’s face.

The blond raised his eyebrows. “We’ve hardly been through anything, Kuroo.”

The darker haired man managed a small smile. “Yeah, you’re fucking crazy,” he said, chuckling.

Tsukishima let a small smirk turn the corners of his mouth up. “Probably.”

#

People were crowded into Bokuto and Akaashi’s house, fitting themselves on whatever surface they could manage to. People were sitting on the coffee table, the couch, the floor, and the counters. 

Kuroo had called his entire gang to Bokuto and Akaashi’s house to inform everyone of what had happened, and the moves they were going to make. He was wearing a plain red button up that was only buttoned halfway up his chest, and five hundred dollar sweatpants. They were black sweatpants with leather strips down the sides, and an embroidered tiger on the outside of one of the thighs, but Tsukishima didn’t really understand how they could be so expensive. The button up and sweatpants were an interesting combination, but he couldn’t really blame Kuroo for not wanting to put effort into getting out of bed. Tsukishima had hardly even _gotten_ out of bed this morning.

“As you know,” Kuroo explained, sitting at the front of the room, “Daishou burnt my penthouse down last night. For some reason, someone trashed his place, and he thinks I was the one to do it again. I don’t know what he’s planning to do next, but we need to be on standby, because he _will_ do something. This is Daishou we’re talking about.” Tsukishima was sitting next to the man, only half awake, watching him with heavy eyes. Bokuto and Akaashi were standing behind Kuroo, leaning against the wall.

Tsukishima had to admit, leadership really looked good on Kuroo.

Bokuto was dressed as usual, wearing am embarrassingly shiny, white tracksuit, with a matching visor. Akaashi was in black, tight-fitting jeans, and a long black shirt, decorating holes speckled over the front and back, revealing his pale skin.

For having never met this Daishou person, he sure heard a lot about him, from the very beginning. According to Kuroo, the two of them had grown up together, and had apparently never liked each other. Their parents were both in the Yakuza, so naturally, they grew up to be as well. Neither Kuroo nor Daishou had wanted to cooperate enough to have one solid gang, which was the origin of the two Yakuza subgangs. Being opposing gang leaders was only fueling the fire of their hate.

Tendou hummed, tapping his chin with a long, bandaged index finger. He was chewing on his lower lip, eyes flitting around the ceiling wildly as he thought. His red hair was sticking up as if he’d just stuck his fingers in an electrical outlet, which Tsukishima would not doubt for a second. He tilted his head, eyes finding Kuroo. “We could just burn his place down in return.” His pupils were wide, barely focused on the man he was talking to. He was wearing a plain grey t-shirt and tight black leggings, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Yaku was the first one to speak up. “Look, a gang war is the last thing we need on our hands.” He was adjusting the bandages around his fingers, wrapping them around the digits.

Oikawa snorted. “Sure, we’ll burn his mansion down, if you’re all fine with being dead.” His eyes were narrowed, dark brown looking at everyone like they were far less intelligent than he was.

“What’re we supposed to do, then?” Yamamoto asked, the grill on his lower set of teeth catching the light in Bokuto and Akaashi’s living room. He was dressed in a red t-shirt and black basketball shorts, looking far more casual than Tsukishima was used to. Nearly everyone looked different, most likely due to the fact that it was still early in the morning. Most of them looked like they’d rolled out of bed and driven over here.

Yahaba and Kyoutani were sitting on the couch, slender arms wrapped around thick biceps, Yahaba practically resting in his lap. Tsukishima had no idea who Yahaba was, without all the glamour makeup, until he’d said something earlier that morning. He was wearing a silky, mauve pajama set, his cheek resting against Kyoutani’s shoulder. Kyoutani was wearing a t-shirt, and what eerily resembled boxer shorts. Something which Tsukishima would not put past him, whether he wanted to think about it or not.

“We don’t have to _do_ anything,” Oikawa responded. “Why can’t we just lay low for a while? Fighting back is only going to make everything worse, we all know that.”

“So we’re just supposed to let Daishou do this?” His tongue ring was glinting as he spoke. He was playing with a string hanging off of the hole in his jeans. “He’s fucking crazy, this isn’t exactly news to us.”

“No,” Kuroo interfered. “We’re not going to do anything, yet. If he does anything else, we will, but for now, we just have to stay out of his reach.” His eyes momentarily flickered to Tsukishima, brief enough that the blond almost didn’t notice. “We all have something he can use against us.”

Terushima narrowed his eyes. “Even so, he’s just allowed to burn your house down without having any consequences? We have to take collateral.”

“And what, start a gang war?” Suga asked. He was sitting on the couch, a leg crossed over the other, wearing short black shorts, and a silky, silver tank top. Tsukishima almost didn’t recognize him without the eyelashes and glitter. He had a natural sort of beauty, but it wasn’t nearly as flashy as Tsukishima was used to him looking.

Terushima crossed his arms over his chest. “He burnt Kuroo’s house down. This is our _leader_ , guys. Come on.”

Yamamoto frowned, looking around the room with a glare. “I’m not sure we have to go as far as burning Daishou’s place down, but I do feel like we should at least try to get even with him.”

“How do you figure we’ll fight _Daishou_ , since you seem to know so much,” Oikawa sneered at Terushima.

Tendou gave an exaggerated shrug. “Burn his house down.”

Yaku pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tendou, please shut the fuck up.”

Terushima pointed his gaze at the brunet. “I’m not saying I know more than you, Oikawa, I’m _saying_ there have to be consequences for this type of thing.”

Oikawa was giving the man a tight-lipped smile, that implied everything a smile should not. “You _really_ want to start a gang war, don’t you?”

Terushima opened his mouth to speak, but Kuroo put his hand up, silencing everyone with one gesture. “Fine,” he sighed, “but don’t do anything unless I tell you to do so, unless you want to be killed. I’ll talk to a few of you, but otherwise, stay out of it.”

Suga was drumming his manicured, metallic pink nails on his thigh. “We have to take precaution, though. Taking it too far with Daishou is dangerous.”

“That’s exactly right,” Kuroo nodded. “We’ll be careful. Just know that Daishou and his gang are looking for a fight. They want us to fuck up so they have a reason to try to kill us.”

There were a few hums and nods in agreement.

“Alright. I’m done.” Everyone started talking loudly, filling the room with noise. Tsukishima still hadn’t been awake for long enough to be able to handle this much chaos. It always took him a few hours to fully wake up. Kuroo turned to Tsukishima. “There’s food, so please eat it.” Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi had set up a breakfast for everyone, since they all had to be here so early.

“Am I allowed to go back to bed?” Tsukishima asked, rubbing his face with his palm. Kuroo had kept him up late last night, and he was not built for lack of sleep.

Kuroo leaned over to kiss Tsukishima on the side of his mouth. “Not without me,” he laughed, sliding his hand down Tsukishima’s arm so he could grab his hand and kissing his center knuckle with soft lips. Tsukishima scowled at him, earning another laugh. He was relieved that Kuroo was acting like himself again. The previous night had really thrown him off, when Kuroo was freaking out about the fire. Not that it wasn’t completely warranted, but Tsukishima still wasn’t sure what to do in a situation like that. He’d never been good at comforting people.

“Disgusting,” Oikawa smiled, wrinkling his nose. Oikawa was one of the only people who didn’t look any different than usual. He was wearing a grey vest over a dark green button up, paired with black slacks, shoes, and a wool coat. His tie was a light, spring green.

“Pleasant to see you, as always,” Kuroo teased, buttoning one of the buttons up on his shirt. “Actually, you were one of the people I was going to talk to, about this whole thing. Where’s Kageyama?”

“I swear to _god_ , if you make me work with him—”

“Hey, Kageyama,” Kuroo called, motioning for him to come over. “Come here for a moment.”

The black haired man walked over quickly, a piece of melon still in his mouth. Tsukishima wrinkled his nose. “Yes?” he asked, swallowing the rest of his food. His eyes were shockingly blue, especially paired with his straight, black hair. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants.

“You two are the best with technology, as far as I’m concerned,” Kuroo explained, shrugging. “Wipe his credit cards clean. If he doesn’t have his money, he won’t know what to do. It’s not hurting anyone, but it’s still taking something back from him.” There was a look in Kuroo’s eyes that Tsukishima hadn’t seen before. He looked as if he’d do anything to get back at Daishou. He could believe that this was the Kuroo Tetsurou that had killed people before. He still couldn’t bring himself to fear Kuroo, not even in the least.

“Is that all?” Kageyama asked.

“Really,” Oikawa said, “is that _all_ we’re doing? God, it’s not going to take an armada of people to hack into someone credit card, Kuroo. It’ll only take one person.”

Kuroo laughed. “I’m not the one who knows about this stuff.” He turned to Kageyama. “Do you think you can do it alone?”

“I don’t think that should be a problem,” Kageyama nodded.

“Alright. You do that, then. Thank you.” He excused the man, who turned, and quickly walked back towards where the food was. “Oikawa, how long has it been since you’ve been in a dress?” he asked, a grin spreading onto his face. He looped a black tie around his neck, tying it with long fingers. Tsukishima’s mouth felt dry, watching the sight.

Oikawa thought about this, looking up at the ceiling. “Depends on when the last time I hooked up with Yamamoto was,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face.

Kuroo laughed loudly. “Glad to know that my gang is full of a bunch of perverts.”

Tsukishima turned his head to look at Kuroo with raised eyebrows. “They are _your_ gang,” he pointed out.

“That’s true, at least,” Oikawa snorted.

“Anyway,” Kuroo laughed, “I think I have a job for you.”

“What is it?” the brunet asked.

Kuroo grinned, eyes sliding over to the other man. “I’ll tell you when the time comes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment, kudos, question, or anything telling me how you feel about the update!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	7. Reticent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daishou trying to start something that Kuroo isn't so sure about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers! After a bit of a hiatus, I'm back with a short chapter. This chapter is just to set up the event for next chapter, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!
> 
> After this chapter, I'm not really sure when I'll be able to update consistently, but I will certainly do my best to carry out this series!

Tsukishima was straddling Kuroo’s hips, the other man lying on the couch, both of them having just gotten out of class. Kuroo’s hands were on the blond’s hips, fingers gently digging into the skin there. Tsukishima was kissing his boyfriend on the mouth, their lips fitted together, tongues sliding wetly against the other’s.

They were in Bokuto and Akaashi’s living room, kissing, since they had just under an hour until the other two were out of class. Kuroo had grabbed Tsukishima by the wrists as soon as they’d gotten inside, pulling him onto his lap, until they were in their current position.

They were kissing slowly, taking their time, Tsukishima letting the heat build up in in the pit of his stomach, feeling Kuroo grow hard against the inside of his thigh. He bit Kuroo’s lower lip, tugging gently, his tongue feeling the soft skin there.

Kuroo gave a quiet groan, fingers digging into Tsukishima’s hips. “You smell really good,” he murmured, mouthing his way over Tsukishima’s jawline, lips shifting down his neck, the flat edges of his teeth scraping over sensitive skin.

Tsukishima gave a breathy laugh, stabilizing himself, using a hand on Kuroo’s chest. “That’s what did it for you?” he teased, rocking his hips a bit when the darker haired man gave a particularly hard bite.

“Kind of, yeah,” Kuroo admitted, shifting his hands over Tsukishima’s clothed thighs, rubbing over the front of his jeans.

Tsukishima gasped softly, rocking his hips against Kuroo, grinding the darker haired man’s length against his ass. Kuroo unbuttoned the blond’s jeans, eyes focusing on the bulge in front of him. His tawny eyes were blown dark, flickering over the taller man’s frame. “Remind me to smell nice more often,” he said. Fingers wrapped around his length through his boxers, stroking him through the fabric. He bent down to kiss Kuroo again, tasting his lips, tongue parting his lips.

Kuroo’s fingers moved nimbly, squeezing him in all the right places, a thumb moving over the slit, feeling the wet spot forming. When he spoke, his lips vibrated again the blond’s. “Next time we fuck, you should top,” he said, fingers rubbing against the shaft of Tsukishima’s cock. Even through fabric, Tsukishima could tell how rough and calloused Kuroo’s hands were.

Tsukishima licked into his mouth, their tongues slipping against one another. “Alright,” he agreed, his hands smoothing over the silk button up covering Kuroo’s biceps. He’d never thought about topping Kuroo before, but it wasn’t a thought he particularly minded. He just figured he was better at bottoming, and Kuroo sure as hell was good at topping. He happened to really enjoy how it felt when Kuroo was fucking him. Switching positions was fine by him.

“Really?” Kuroo asked, raising his eyebrows.

Tsukishima rolled his hips on top of Kuroo again, leaning down for another kiss. “I don’t care either way.” He was about to kiss Kuroo again, when the door flew open, Bokuto entering in a panic.

Tsukishima and Kuroo both sat up quickly, Tsukishima buttoning his jeans back up. “What’s wrong?” the darker haired man asked without hesitation.

Bokuto was frowning, sweating shining over his face, his moth downturned into a harsh, unhappy line. His thick eyebrows were knit, large gold eyes focused and narrow. “I’m going to fucking _kill_ Daishou, if I ever get my hands on him.” He was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling with rage. Akaashi entered behind him, looking the slightest bit shaken up, but otherwise the same as usual. Nothing like his fuming boyfriend.

“Koutarou, I’m _fine_ ,” Akaashi assured, setting his thin hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders.

Bokuto turned quickly. “If he had come any closer to you, I would’ve killed the kid.”

Akaashi put his hands on the sides of Bokuto’s face, forcing the latter to focus on him. “You did enough to him. He didn’t even touch me.”

“He was going to.”

Kuroo stood up, looking between the couple. “What happened?”

Bokuto took a deep breath, and Tsukishima could see him clenching his fists so hard that his knuckled turned white. “One of Daishou’s minions… Kindaichi, I think. He thought Akaashi was the one who fucked with Daishou’s credit cards, so he was threatening him. Let’s just say he didn’t get very far.”

“You shouldn’t have touched him, Kou. It’s just going to make things worse,” Akaashi said, dark eyes staring at the white haired man.

“What did you do?” Kuroo asked, before Bokuto could defend himself.

Bokuto glared at his leader. “Well, naturally, I beat the shit out of him. Think I broke on of his arms. Maybe his nose, I don’t know.”

Kuroo shook his head, sighing. “You can’t just _do_ that, alright? Things are bad enough as—”

“You would have done the same fucking thing if he’d threatened Tsukishima, so don’t give me that,” Bokuto snapped.

Kuroo shook his head. “We _cannot_ start a fucking gang was with Daishou. You can’t just _do_ something like that. Whether I would have done the same thing or not doesn’t matter. It’s just going to put everyone else in more danger.”

Bokuto scoffed loudly. “What the hell was I supposed to do? Let Akaashi get threatened?”

Akaashi stepped forward. “I could have taken care of it myself, you know that. You didn’t have to break his arm.”

Bokuto looked and Akaashi and Kuroo narrowing his eyes, before storming off to the master bedroom, slamming the door behind him, so hard the walls shook.

Akaashi sighed loudly, sitting down on one of their loveseats.

“Should I go talk to him?” Kuroo asked, eyes watching the closed door.

Akaashi shook his head. “No, he just needs time alone when he gets like this. He isn’t used to getting so angry, so he doesn’t know how to handle it.:

It was the difference between puppy and guard dog, that Tsukishima had noticed in Bokuto. He usually acted like an excitable puppy, wagging it’s tale and running around in circles. But when he didn’t act like that, it was serious. He was a guard dog, hair standing up on it’s back, baring it’s teeth and growling at anything that got close. That’s how Tsukishima understood in, anyway.

And to think that the dual personalities of the Yakuza was hardly even the most exciting thing about Tsukishima’s new life.

#

Kuroo was lying under Tsukishima again, their mouths smashed together, long fingers tangled in Kuroo’s hair. Kuroo had initiated it again, pulling his boyfriend on top of him. Tsukki was just _so cute_ , and so incredibly hard to resist.

Tsukishima’s fingers were lightly tugging at his hair, when his phone started buzzing in his pocket.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Kuroo complained against the blond’s mouth. Tsukishima sat up on his hips, allowing Kuroo to check his phone. It was Oikawa.

“You have to take it?” Tsukishima asked, already moving off of the darker haired man.

“Sorry,” Kuroo apologized, getting up out of Bokuto and Akaashi’s guest bed. He answered the call, sliding his free hand into the pocket of his slacks. “What’s up?”

There was fast breathing on the other end. “You will _never_ guess what I just had to do,” Oikawa chirped, sounding irritated. “I had to fucking _run/_. In my brand new Stanely Korshak suit. I’m _pissed_.” He paused to catch his breath. “Some short motherfucker of Daishou’s can run fucking _fast_ , and for some reason chose my Stanely Korshak day to try to maim me.”

“Daishou tried to get Akaashi earlier today, too,” Kuroo explained. “He’s out of his mind if he thinks it’s going to work.” 

“Why Akaashi?” 

Kuroo shook his head, frustrated at the situation. The day Daishou learned to manage his wildcard of a temper, was the day Kuroo could finally rest in peace. “He thought Akaashi was behind the whole credit card ordeal. He’s fucking stupid.” 

“Just make sure he doesn’t find out about your new pet. You know he’ll try to use him against you.” 

“Don’t worry about that, I have it all under control. Thanks, Oikawa,” he sighed. “Are you okay?” 

A huff. “I’m fine, just pissed about my fucking suit. That little fucker owes me a new Stanely Korshak. 

Kuroo chuckled. “I’ll let you handle that. Talk to you later,” he said. 

“Be careful,” the brunet reminded, before hanging up. 

Kuroo pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to figure out what to do. Everything was falling to shit so quickly. Even if he’d warned his gang about what could potentially be happening, none of them were fully prepared for it. They’d never had to go through anything this intense before. If Daishou chose to start a gang war, they were completely fucked. 

“Did one of Daishou’s men go after Oikawa?” Tsukishima asked, sitting cross legged on the bed. 

"He’s gone after two of my people in a day,” Kuroo pointed out. “And I’m just wasting time here. No offense.” 

“It’s fine,” Tsukishima assured. 

Kuroo sat on the bed and put his hand on the blond’s thigh, squeezing gently. “It’s not like I don’t _want_ to make out with you for half the day, but I can’t have people getting hurt if I’m able to prevent it.” 

“Do what you have to,” Tsukishima said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You won’t offend me.” 

Kuroo smiled, giving his boyfriend a quick kiss to the lips. He stood up, smoothing down his shirt. “You’re the best.” 

Tsukishima really was the best. Ever since they’d started sleeping together at Kuroo’s party, the blond had always been there for him. Even if he would have rather been studying, he was still with the darker haired man, just because Kuroo wanted him to be. And even though Kuroo had completely freaked out about the fire, Tsukishima had pulled him out of it, and stayed with Kuroo. In a both figurative and literal sense. Tsukishima was the _best_.” 

He opened the door to Bokuto and Akaashi’s bedroom, where Akaashi was straddling the lighter haired man’s hips, pressing kisses all over his face. 

“Sorry,” Kuroo interrupted, closing the door behind him. They were both fully clothed, besides Bokuto’s shirt, which seemed to be crumpled on the floor, but that was hardly unusual. 

Akaashi moved off of Bokuto, sitting comfortably on the bed, his hands clasped in his lap. “Is there a problem?” he asked, his eyes flickering over to his boyfriend. Bokuto’s eyes looked red and glassy, as if he’d just been crying. He was probably still worried about Akaashi, from earlier. He tended to get stressed out easily, when it came to the other man. 

Kuroo decided to keep it quick and simple, for their sake. “Another one of Daishou’s men went after Oikawa, today. He’s totally unharmed, but that just means that Daishou is actively trying to hunt us down. He’s absolutely out of his fucking mind. I don’t want to have to do this, but we might have to fight back.” 

“What’re you going to do?” Bokuto asked, running a hand through his hair, looking up at Kuroo from where he was lying on the bed. 

“Well,” Kuroo sighed, hand reaching for the phone in his pocket. “I did have a mission for our dear Oikawa.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a kudos or comment telling me how you feel about this chapter. Thank you for you support!<3

**Author's Note:**

> More to come soon!


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